


Aya Potter and The Dark Lord

by A_Perverted_Romance_Addict



Series: Aya Potter and The Dark Lord [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy with a touch of Drama, Decent Dursleys, Diadem Horcrux, Diary Horcrux, Explicit Sex Scene of Dubious Nature in later chapters, F/M, Father figure Severus Snape, Female Harry Potter, Foul Language, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, M/M, May/December Relationship, Mentor Severus Snape, No (Attempted) Rape, Pregnancy, Virgin Harry, Virgin Voldemort, Years One through Five, alternative universe, locket horcrux, ring horcrux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-08-28 04:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 168,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Perverted_Romance_Addict/pseuds/A_Perverted_Romance_Addict
Summary: Aya Potter is an orphan, living a simple and happy life at the Dursleys, but a letter before her eleventh birthday brings about many changes. For one, she finds out she is a witch, and a famous one at that. She is also called the Girl-Who-Lived by the wizarding populace, because allegedly she defeated a Dark Lord when she was just an infant.Now at Hogwarts, she tries her best to fade into the background and not get into any troubles. Apparently, that is not possible, because no matter how hard she tries to stay out of troubles, somehow she ends up in sticky situations anyway.Oh, and the Dark Lord she supposedly defeated as an infant is not so dead after all, and now that he has access to her, he wants her dead. Maybe she could talk him out of it?In any case, Aya wishes her life wasn’t as complicated as it was.





	1. Childhood and The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> As you’ve gathered from the summary and the tags, this is a female Harry fanfiction, as well as an AU of the entire series. I will go through pretty much all the years, but not in great detail. There will be an incident around sixth year, that will force Aya (Harry) into hiding and out of Hogwarts, but it’s still a long way before it happens. 
> 
> I don’t want to reveal too much with the tags, but I will say that this is going to be a Harrymort, which means that our female Harry (Aya) will fall in love with the pale, snake-like, red-eyed Voldemort, and yes, they will have children, so there will be a few pregnancies down the line. This story will also contain an explicit sex scene of dubious nature involving an underage participant. So, anyone who is bothered by that is also warned beforehand. 
> 
> I will add warnings/tags as I post. This title is only the first part of a trilogy. I will update every Friday.

_1 November 2001 – 25 July 2011_

Aya Potter was an orphan. But unlike many would imagine, she wasn’t particularly bothered by that fact. How could she, when she didn’t remember what it was like to have parents in the first place. Even more so, if what her aunt told her about them was true.

Apparently, when she was fifteen months old, her parents and she got into a car accident. According to her aunt and uncle, they were drunk. They didn’t survive the impact, but Aya did. Then, the rescuers found her, got her out of the wrecked car and contacted her aunt Petunia Dursley, her mother’s sister, and her husband. She’s been living with them and her cousin Dudley for the past ten years.

And she was happy with her life.

She could tell her relatives didn’t particularly like her, but they tolerated her and treated her like a decent human being. She was never allowed luxuries like her cousin Dudley, and whenever they went on vacation, she wasn’t invited along, but she was never hungry, she had her own clothes, although modest and few, and she even got a present or two a year. And the Dursleys trusted her enough to take care of the house and herself when they left her to her own devices.

Of course, she had to clean her own room (and her cousin’s room) and do a few household chores to help her aunt, but she was never punished or mistreated, even when she did better than her cousin at school.

Instead of being punished, her aunt and uncle tasked her with helping Dudley study. This resulted to be a challenging task, because Dudley really didn’t like school work, so she mostly ended up doing his homework as well and tried her best to make sure Dudley understood enough for a test to get an average grade without struggling too much.

If by the end of the school year, Dudley’s grades were average or slightly above it, she was given a budget and she could choose her reward within it. She usually chose a book or two, maybe a piece of clothing or a pair of shoes, or simply saved the money for later. One never knew when it might come in handy.

Yes, she was happy leading a normal and simple life as the ward of the Dursleys. That’s why it came as a big surprise when one morning, when she went to get the post, there was a letter addressed to her. She had a few acquaintances at school, but never had anyone ever written her a letter before.

She returned to the kitchen where aunt Petunia had just finished preparing the breakfast and was setting it on the table. As she handed the stack of envelopes to Vernon, she said, “Uncle Vernon, there seems to be a letter for me, but I don’t know the sender.”

Her aunt and uncle stared at the envelope she was referring to and paled visibly. They quickly exchanged looks.

“I thought that since there hasn’t been any unnatural incidents with her, those freaks wouldn’t come to disrupt our lives with this mumbo jumbo,” spat uncle Vernon regaining colour, only to get red from anger.

Aunt Petunia was speechless, looking at the address. “I … don’t know what to say Vernon. But we can’t just ignore them. Look, they even know the exact room she’s in. They might send more or come in person. Imagine what could happen then.”

“I’m not having a freak in my house,” insisted Vernon, containing his fury. “If she managed to live normally until now, I don’t understand why she can’t continue to be normal until she’s old enough to leave the house.”

Aya didn’t understand a thing, but what she gathered from their reactions was that the letter was trouble and since it was concerning her, she might also be part of the problem. If that was the case, she was more than willing to let whatever was written in the letter go, and not upset her guardians.

They’ve managed to live in peace so far, they can continue to live in peace. And nothing was worth sacrificing the peaceful life she was living.

Dudley started to whine, demanding to know what his parents were talking about and for once, Aya was grateful for her cousin’s outburst because he was asking the questions she wanted to ask, but would never have the courage to ask them herself.

But aunt Petunia changed the subject and managed to calm Dudley down with food and asking him if he wanted to go anywhere for the holidays. Spain, Italy, Greece, or Hawaii, perhaps?

In the meantime, uncle Vernon crumpled the unopened letter in his fist, although it was more than obvious to Aya that he wanted to rip it in tiny pieces and burn those pieces so that nothing but ash remained.

…

Nothing was mentioned about Aya’s strange letter for the rest of the day. And honestly, even Aya had forgotten about it, after being completely absorbed in a science fiction book about human experimentation and genetic transmutation.

She was in a middle of a particularly gruesome scene when someone knocked.

“Come in.” She marked the page she was at, and settled the book on her lap. Aunt Petunia entered. Aya waited for her to close the door again, and sit next to her on the bed. After a long silence, Petunia started talking.

“Your uncle and I have been discussing how to approach this conundrum with this morning’s letter,” she said with hands in her lap, “and we have decided that … you should know what is going on.”

There was anxious anticipation blooming in Aya’s chest, but she didn’t dare say anything, so she simply nodded her understanding.

“First, I want you to know that I don’t know all the details, so if you have any doubts and questions refrain from asking anything. Is that clear?”

Aya nodded.

“Now, I should probably start by saying that … you aren’t normal. You never were. You’re a …” she pressed her lips in a thin line and a grimace appeared on her aunt’s face. “Witch.”

There was shocked silence. Aya simply stared, wide-eyed, at her aunt, thinking she’d misheard what she said. Her … a witch? What did that even mean?

She cleared her throat, and for the first time ventured and said, “I don’t think I know what you mean by that.”

“You can do magic,” answered Petunia. “As did your parents.”

Hold on. Magic?

“What do you mean magic?” she inquired confused. “Magic only exists in books and movies. There’s no such thing as magic.”

Petunia smiled. “If Vernon could hear you now. He would be proud of your words. At least something good came out of these past ten years we’ve had to deal with you. But I’m afraid that … as absurd as it sounds to you, you are indeed a witch and can do magic.”

Aya was completely dumbfounded. Amidst questions swirling in her head, she remembered another piece of information she learned that night.

“You said my parents could do magic as well?” she asked carefully.

Another grimace crossed Petunia’s face. “Yes, they did.”

As she was trying to connect the dots and make sense of what she was being told, a strange realisation struck her. She frowned in confusion. “There’s something that doesn’t make sense. If my mother was a witch and performed magic, and she was also your sister … how come you don’t seem to do magic?”

A self-deprecating smile appeared on Petunia’s lips. “I suppose I wasn’t special enough to be granted such a thing. But I am happy with my life as it is. I have a husband and a son, and I myself am alive …” a malicious grin split her face. “The same cannot be said for my dear sister and her husband now, can it? If she hadn’t been so eager to be a part of that world she would still be alive. But no, she had to stick her nose where she didn’t have to and got herself blown up by a madman.”

Hang on. Blown up? This wasn’t what she was told all those years ago whenever her parents came up in a discussion. She wanted to ask, but … Did it really matter? If the story she was told so far was a lie, the fact that both her parents were dead didn’t change, did it? Whether she believed them to be irresponsible _and_ drunks as opposed to _just_ irresponsible didn’t really make that much of a difference to her. So, she let it be.

A rustling caught her attention and her aunt handed her the crumpled letter. “Open it … and read it.”

She took the envelope, opened it and read the contents in silence. With each word on the parchment, because that couldn’t be regular paper, her anxiety levels built up until she felt dizzy and she had stomach cramps.

“A school for magic?” she whispered disbelievingly. “How can I go to a school for something I have no idea how to do? Besides, you and uncle already chose a school for me, I can’t just not go.”

“That is something I cannot help you with,” concluded Petunia with finality and went for the door. “Whatever you choose to do, you should let Vernon and I know.” As she was about to leave, she turned around with a final piece of advice. “Oh, and whenever you want to talk anything about _that_ place,” she motioned towards the letter, “never use the word _magic_ or anything similar.”

Aya nodded absentmindedly and returned her gaze to the letter. This was too much. She was not prepared for this. She didn’t want any of this. Sure, magic sounded cool in fantasy books and comics, but to actually possess the ability to do magic and not know how to actually use it just didn’t go well with her.

With emotions and doubts running high, she took out a piece of paper from a notebook and set out to write a formal refusal letter to Deputy Headmistress Professor Minerva McGonagall.

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

_I am writing to you in response to the letter I have received this morning. I am honoured you have offered me a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but with my sincerest apologies, I have to decline my position at the school._

_First, up until today, I did not know I was capable of performing magic, nor had anything in my childhood pointed to me being … out of the ordinary. As such, I am sure you can understand magic is a completely new concept to me and I find it very difficult to believe. Furthermore, with no magical knowledge forming part of my childhood background, I fear that my lack of it will put me at a disadvantage._

_Second, even with a list of school supplies, I am at a complete loss of where to even acquire them, nor have I the means to afford so many items._

_I truly am sorry; however, I think it is for the best that I do not attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My uncle and aunt have already chosen a school for me as well, and it would be rude and ungrateful not to accept it._

_I hope this matter can be resolved quickly and without complications. I wish you all the best._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Aya Potter_

Glancing over the letter one more time, she folded it quickly and wondered where to get an owl to send it. She didn’t even know the address. And really … owls? Just which century did these … _people_ think it was? The Middle Ages?

Well, an owl must have surely delivered the letter to her in the first place. So, unless it had flown away, tired of waiting for a response, the bird should still be somewhere in the vicinity of 4 Privet Drive.

She looked outside the window. It took her a minute or so to adjust her eyes to the darkness outside, but on a hedge not too far from her window an owl was perched like a mini soldier. She opened the window and waved the letter towards the owl. The animal flapped its wings and flew inside her room, startling her in the process.

She waited for it to stop moving and tied the letter with a string around the extended leg. When it flew away, Aya quickly closed the window and the curtains, and heaved a sigh. Now, hopefully, the magic people will accept her refusal without much fuss, so that she could continue to live her normal and simple life at the Dursleys.


	2. Fame and Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read the chapter, I would like to say a couple of things first.
> 
> First, I would like to thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions so far. Honestly, I didn't expect so much interest, but I'm grateful. I hope you will continue to enjoy what I put out.
> 
> Second, somehow I forgot the disclaimer in the previous chapter, so I'll put it here: The characters and some of the events belong to J. K. Rowling. I only use them to express my wild imagination.
> 
> And finally, I hope you enjoy this week's chapter.

As Deputy Headmistress, Minerva had seen many strange and peculiar things in her career. However, nothing could have prepared her for the owl she received the day after sending out the admission letters to the upcoming first years.

A letter from Aya Potter no less was on her desk. And not just any letter … but a refusal to attend Hogwarts letter. She … the child of two brilliant wizards … the defeater of You-Know-Who didn’t want to attend Hogwarts! This was downright blasphemous! Outrageous! Scandalous! Albus must hear about this immediately.

Oh, and what a polite and educated child she was. She didn’t recall a time when an eleven-year old sounded so well-spoken.

‘Focus, Minerva,’ she admonished herself. ‘This is not the time to be impressed by an eleven-year old’s writing.’

She took the letter and went straight to the Headmaster’s office.

…

A tired sigh escaped Dumbledore’s lips as he set the letter down. “My dear Minerva, this really is concerning,” he concluded in a grave voice.

“There must be something we can do,” interjected Minerva. “Maybe if someone from the staff visited her and explained the situation to her, she would reconsider her decision.”

There was a pensive look in Albus’ eyes, as he gently stroked his long silver beard. “It might help, yes. However, the question is who should go and speak to young Aya,” he wondered aloud. His gaze landed on Minerva.

“Yes, I think that would do,” he concluded with mirth twinkling in his eyes.

“Who do you have in mind, Albus?”

“Why you, my dear Minerva.”

“Me?” croaked Minerva, surprised. “You want me to visit Aya and talk her into attending Hogwarts?”

Dumbledore nodded. “There is no one else I would entrust this but you, Minerva,” he popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth.

‘You said the same thing about Hagrid ten years ago,’ thought Minerva begrudgingly, but didn’t protest. She left the Headmaster’s office and returned to hers to write a response to Aya Potter.

…

After a night of restless sleep, Aya decided to get up early and surprise the Dursleys with a rich and traditional English breakfast. When her relatives came down, she greeted them energetically and with a smile.

Vernon grunted his response while Petunia and Dudley completely ignored her. She set the breakfast on the table and served them, then sat and served herself last.

The meal was a quiet affair, and Aya wondered if it was a good occasion to tell her uncle and aunt about the letter she sent the night before.

When they were almost done eating, she cleared her throat and said quietly, “I wrote to that place last night.” Her aunt and uncle froze, while Dudley continued stuffing his face, but with eyes going between her and his parents.

Vernon’s jaw tightened and his hold on the poor fork as well. Aya hurried to add, “I refused … so, they should leave us alone.” There was still some tension in Vernon’s frame, but it looked like she avoided any explosions.

…

Just as Aya was starting to think the people from Hogwarts would leave her alone, an owl flew over their house and a letter came through the mail flap.

Dread settled in Aya’s stomach as she stared at the letter. She opened it slowly and with trembling hands. It read:

_Dear Miss Potter,_

_I understand your apprehension and your doubts regarding your lack of magical knowledge, but this is an obstacle every muggleborn (a magical person born from two non-magical parents) faces at the beginning of their magical education. Regardless of their magical background, I am proud to say Hogwarts has produced some of the finest and most successful muggleborn witches and wizards in Britain._

_As far as your school supplies are concerned, the school could provide you with a guide and since I cannot imagine your parents leaving you without a single knut (wizarding currency) to your name, you should have a trust vault waiting for you at Gringotts, the wizarding bank, in Diagon Alley, London._

_However, I have a feeling you have already decided not to attend regardless. Believe me, when I say that, if you were anyone else, your refusal letter would have sufficed and you would have had your magic stripped away and any memory of the Hogwarts letter and our world erased. However, you are not anyone else; you are Aya Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, although I am sure this title confuses you at the moment. However, it is imperative that you return to the wizarding world and attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_I am afraid the reasoning behind my claim is of a delicate nature, as such, I would like to request a private meeting with you at your earliest convenience. Since I have gathered from your letter that your relatives do not particularly like wizards and magic, you are more than welcome to choose the place and time for our meeting._

_I am looking forward to your reply._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

A meeting with the Deputy Headmistress? At least she can talk with her in a different location than Privet Drive. And what kind of stupid ass nickname was the Girl-Who-Lived?

She sighed. ‘I suppose I’ll get my answers when I speak with her,’ she thought. ‘What matters now the most is … how the hell am I going to communicate this development to aunt and uncle without risking an outburst?’

…

Waiting for her relatives to be in a good mood was even more nerve wrecking than she anticipated, but she finally decided to tell them about the letter after dinner in the living room, while Dudley went upstairs to play some videogames.

“I received another letter today from … _those_ people,” she said carefully. “They insist I must attend that school, but they didn’t say why.” She waited to see if there would be any reaction. When there was no vocal reaction, she continued in the same careful tone. “They want to meet with me in person.”

At this piece of information Vernon finally spat through his teeth, “I’m not having any of their lot in my house!”

Sensing rising danger, Aya immediately intervened. “I know, uncle Vernon,” she hurried in a soothing voice. “And you won’t have to deal with any of them, trust me. I made sure they understood they’re not welcome in this house. That’s why; I’ve arranged a meeting elsewhere.”

This seemed to somewhat calm Vernon, but it was painfully obvious he would much rather not talk about the entire thing altogether.

“I know you don’t want to have anything to do with this, that’s why I’m going to work everything out personally.” She paused in an effort to find the words to express her thoughts. “Regardless of the outcome on the thirtieth of this month, I promise to never talk about this matter again, and you won’t have to get involved in things like commute and paying for the supplies.”

They both exchanged looks, until Petunia levelled her with a pointed look through her narrowed eyes.

“If you promise not to involve us nor to speak, _ever_ , about _that_ thing, we suppose we can tolerate your presence during the holidays at least.”

A wave of relief washed over Aya, but she made sure nothing shoved on her face.

“But again, don’t expect anything from us in regards to … _that_ ,” she spat that word with disgust, “and the only thing you need to report from the meeting is whether you will go to that school or not. We don’t need to know anything else. You’re on your own for the rest.”

As if she wasn’t already taking care of herself … most of the time. It’s not like it would be that different.

With a silent nod and a little bow, she excused herself and went to her room.

…

On the thirtieth, Aya was a nervous wreck. She left the Dursleys after breakfast, dressed somewhere in between formal and casual, armed with a bottle of water and two plastic cups, and went to the riverbank at the edge of a park in Surrey.

She glanced at her watch several times, and then looked around for any signs of Professor McGonagall. Not that she knew what to expect in the first place. Now that she thought about it, would McGonagall recognise her?

She was startled from her thoughts by mewing and as she looked to the side, she saw a tabby cat.

“Hello, beauty,” she cooed at her and offered the back of her hand for the cat to sniff. “Are you on a stroll? It is a wonderful day after all.”

The cat bumped her nose lightly against her hand and mewed again. A moment later the cat was replaced by a strict-looking, middle-aged woman. A surprised shriek escaped Aya’s mouth and she fell back. Luckily, she was already sitting, so she didn’t make an even bigger spectacle of herself.

“P-Professor McGonagall?” she tried reluctantly, looking at the woman.

“Indeed I am, Miss Potter.”

She swallowed hard, blinking. “You can transform into a cat?”

“Indeed I can, Miss Potter,” she offered with a small, amused smile. “I am what we call an animagus, but that is something you will learn in your third year.” A heavy and awkward silence fell upon them.

“May I join you on the grass?” she gestured towards a spot next to Aya.

Shaking herself out of the stupor, she hurried, “Of course, please, sit. I apologise if it’s not what you were expecting.”

“It’s fine,” McGonagall interrupted her babble. The next moment she was sitting next to her. “It’s a nice little spot,” she said looking around, evaluating the place she’d chosen. “Quiet, not many people, in nature.” Her gaze returned to Aya. “I say, you’ve chosen well young lady.”

Aya’s cheeks heated a bit.

“Water?” she offered, holding up the water bottle.

“Yes, please.”

McGonagall accepted the plastic cup Aya was offering her, and held it up while Aya poured the liquid. When she also served herself, McGonagall broke the silence that settled between them.

“Look at you,” she said appraisingly. “I haven’t seen you since you were a baby. How are you?”

Aya took a sip of water before replying, “I’m fine … Thank you for asking.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Another long beat of silence. “I was worried how your childhood would turn out. After watching your relatives the day your parents died, I couldn’t help but think they were the worst sort of muggles.”

At the question reflected in Aya’s eyes and raised eyebrows, she clarified, “Non-magical people … I’m glad I was somewhat wrong.”

She nodded. “So,” she ventured after a while. “You knew my parents and me?”

“Yes, I taught your parents, actually. Your father was a troublemaker and your mother was a brilliant student, passionate, but your father knew how to bring the worst out of her it would seem.”

There was a melancholic and faraway look in McGonagall’s eyes. Aya on the other hand felt confused about what to make out of the narrative. Even if she was learning something new about her parents, it felt like she was listening about two characters in a novel and not real people.

“I still wonder how they ended up as a couple, they were like water and oil, they didn’t mix well, but I suppose love works in strange ways,” she concluded with finality. “Anyway, it was a tragedy what happened to all three of you.”

“And what happened exactly?” questioned Aya.

Professor McGonagall looked at her, as if she’d said something strange. “You don’t know?” Aya felt uncomfortable for some reason. She shook her head apologetically.

Understanding dawned on McGonagall. “Well, given the nature of your relatives, I would assume they didn’t tell you much, and if they did, they probably fed you lies. Well, I don’t really know what happened either but what it boils down to is essentially this: your parents and you were targeted by the Dark Lord at the time, why I do not know, and you were all in hiding.”

If she didn’t know all the details, how could she say that what she was about to tell her was the truth.

“On 31 October 2001,” continued McGonagall, “the Dark Lord found you, came to your house, killed your parents, and then, proceeded to kill you.”

The blood in Aya’s veins froze, as an uncomfortable chill ran through her body. Someone tried to kill her. And not just anybody, but a Dark Lord at that. This sounded more like something out of a fantasy novel than real life.

Intrigued, she continued to listen to what the professor was saying. “However, something inexplicable happened.” She looked at her with wonder. “You survived a curse that is supposed to kill instantly and infallibly.”

Aya swallowed hard. Now what? The last thing she needed was to find out she was a special snowflake because of that. Then, as if a lightning bolt struck her, she recalled the ridiculous nickname Professor McGonagall used in her letter to refer to her. Of course, in their eyes, she was already a special snowflake … and apparently famous because of it.

“I’m sure I’m not the first nor the only person to have survived a spell that kills,” countered Aya, dismissively.

“As far as we know, you are the first and only person to achieve such a feat,” McGonagall assured her.

“And how can you be sure of that?” insisted Aya. “For all you know there could have been a person in pre-historic times that managed just that or something like that. You just don’t have it recorded because it got lost in time or it was never written down. You know how people were back then. They were telling each other stories orally and all they put on stone was cave paintings of animal hunts and their handprints,” she speculated aloud. “I don’t know why make such a big fuss about it.”

“But it is important,” McGonagall couldn’t believe how dismissively Aya acted about this incredible fact. “That’s why you’re famous. You survived a killing curse and the only thing left behind is the scar on your forehead.”

Aya wanted to roll her eyes. Surviving a killing curse and wearing a scar surely couldn’t have been enough to make her _that_ famous. There must be more to this story.

“There must be more to this story than just me surviving a killing curse with a scar on my forehead,” she said. “What more happened that night? What happened with the Dark Lord?”

“He … disappeared.”

Aya frowned in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

“After he cast the killing curse on you, he vanished into thin air.”

“You mean he died?” Aya tried to make sense of McGonagall’s words.

“Many would believe that to be the case, but there are some who think he’s still alive,” explained the professor. “How he managed to do it, escapes my comprehension.” A sigh escaped McGonagall. “The point of the matter is that people, whether they believe he perished that night or is still roaming the Earth, are convinced you did something that night to defeat him.”

Aya stared horrified at McGonagall. “Bullshit!” was the first thing that came out of her mouth.

“Language, Miss Potter,” admonished McGonagall sternly.

Aya ignored her and continued to rant. “There is no _fucking_ way I could have done anything; I was a _fucking_ baby. If anything, my mother could have been the one who did some sort of … _hocus pocus_. After all, she was supposedly a brilliant witch and if she and my father were in hiding, they knew perfectly well, they should think of any precaution should they be discovered.”

She paused, rubbing her forehead, trying to alleviate the headache that she started to experience at the stupidity of some people. If everyone in that world was like that, no wonder the Dursleys didn’t want anything to do with them. They were all crazy … and _stupid_ beyond belief.

She sighed, a little more composed than before. “I’ve read some weird shit in novels with the chosen one trope, but this mentality surpasses the most contrite and ridiculous fantasy novels by a landslide. What kind of idiot puts that much expectation on a child instead of doing something themselves? You and your people, that’s who!” she raised her voice in frustration and anger.

“And let me guess,” she continued in an agitated whisper, “that’s the real reason I am expected to attend that school. People who believe the Dark Lord is still alive expect him to return, but don’t really know when exactly he’s due to return, so you want me to _‘hone my magic skills’_ ,” she made sure to coat her voice in as much sarcasm as she could, “and be able to defeat him a second time. Because your mentality follows the pattern: if Aya Potter was able to defeat him once, she can do it again, and _again_ , as many times it’s necessary!”

“Miss Potter, calm down.”

“How can you ask me something like that, when you’re telling me your kind sees me as some kind of Jesus Christ who’s going to save them all out of the goodness of my heart,” her voice cracked at the end. “A … a … a sort of kamikaze who’s going to get herself killed for _them_ , for _their_ safety, _their_ happiness just to take someone they don’t like down. And what about _me_ , _my_ wants, _my_ safety, _my_ happiness?”

She tried to normalise her breathing. After several deep breaths, she was calm enough to continue.

“I’ve not spent the last ten years of my life living in harmony for you to just walk right back in to ruin it because you, supposedly brilliant witches and wizards, can’t deal with _one guy_.” She shook her head. “I refuse. I’m not going to that school. I don’t want to be a part of your world. In fact, when you return, tell them Aya Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, doesn’t exist. She’s dead to you and your kind.”

“What about the legacy of your parents?” insisted McGonagall, running out of things to say to convince the girl to accept her place at Hogwarts and the wizarding world. “They died protecting you, fighting for the freedom of the wizarding world.”

“What legacy? What freedom?” said Aya with venom coating every syllable. “Besides, I don’t owe neither them nor your world _anything_. They died because they chose to stick their noses where it didn’t belong. They wanted to be ‘ _heroes_ ’, and look where that got them … ten feet underground as food for worms. Protecting me was the least they could do. After all, even in the beast world parents are supposed to protect their young. So don’t expect me to applaud and hail them for behaving like parents should.”

McGonagall was speechless and in shock. This was nothing like what she expected the meeting to go.

“You’re a witch,” she tried, gently. “You belong into the wizarding world, not here with muggles.”

“I’ve managed so far,” responded Aya, light-heartedly. “I think I can manage to live surrounded by … _muggles_ for the rest of my life just fine.”

McGonagall let out a defeated sigh, but she wasn’t willing to give up just yet. She was after all a stubborn Gryffindor and Scottish at that.

“I understand your reluctance and … aversion to form part of the wizarding world again, but I implore you to reconsider your decision. Believe me when I tell you I wish it were easier and simpler, but it isn’t. That’s a fact. Outside of you being famous for surviving the killing curse and … allegedly defeating the Dark Lord, as a Potter you are the last of your bloodline and in our world that comes with certain obligations once you complete majority at seventeen.”

Aya was about to open her mouth and comment on that, but McGonagall stopped her.

“Before you say anything else, please, reconsider it. At least complete your magical education, get your bloodline affairs in order and if you are still adamant not to be a part of the wizarding world, you are more than welcome to leave and never return. But how are you going to know how you really feel about it if you don’t even give it a chance?”

Aya glared at the professor, but after a while, she let out a resigned sigh and her glare softened. “You’re not going to leave me be are you?”

A smile tugged at professor’s lips. “I’m afraid not.”

Aya sighed again. “Alright,” she conceded, after a long stretch of silence. “I’ll go to Hogwarts, but I have a few conditions,” she said hurriedly before McGonagall could feel victorious.

“If it’s within my power, I’ll do my best to meet those conditions,” she assured her.

“I don’t want any of the Girl-Who-Lived crap among the students and the school staff. I don’t want to be in the spotlight, because I’m neither an exotic animal in a zoo nor a rare specimen in a Natural History Museum to be gawked at. I am to be treated like a normal student with zero magical knowledge. Should a student fail to remember it, they should be punished in whichever way you punish students at school. Punish them enough times and hopefully they’ll learn not to go all ‘ _kyakya_ ’ around me. Should one of the staff fail to remember to treat me as just one of the students I will file an official complaint demanding a sanction.”

Professor McGonagall was gaping like a fish by the time she was finished.

“I … I will see what can be done in regards to your wishes, but don’t you think a sanction is a bit too much?”

Aya remained firm. “No. Both the staff and the students should face some sort of punishment if they fail to treat me as a normal human being. Just because the professors have authority because of their position doesn’t mean they should be completely exempt from punishment.”

“I see,” she whispered dejectedly. “I will make sure to convey your … wishes. Anything else?”

Aya thought for a moment. “Not really, just tell me some basic information about what to expect from Hogwarts and how to get my school supplies.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Oh, and try to keep everything you tell me as neutral as possible,” she added. “I want to enter this new … period of my life with as little preconceptions and prejudices as possible. Let me form my own opinions and conclusions.

McGonagall blinked in confusion a few times before clearing her throat and started to explain. “Well, every student, when they first come to Hogwarts, is sorted into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin …”

…

It was almost time for lunch when the meeting between Aya and Professor McGonagall ended. When McGonagall offered to accompany her to Diagon Alley, she politely refused her assistance, but thanked her for the offer and instead inquired about how to navigate her way through the unknown territory.

After she received her Gringotts key and a makeshift map to the place that connected muggle London to magical London, an inn called The Leaky Cauldron, she had one more question on her mind.

“Thank you for taking the time and coming all this way to tell me all this,” she started awkwardly.

“I’m glad I could talk to you.”

“I apologise for being rude earlier. I … usually don’t have outbursts like that.”

McGonagall shook her head. “It’s understandable.”

There was hesitation on Aya’s part about how to address the burning question she wanted answered, but then she decided that being straightforward was the best policy. “There’s one more thing I would like to know.”

“What is it?”

“It’s about … the Dark Lord you mentioned,” clarified Aya. “Who is he exactly? I doubt his name was Dark Lord.”

McGonagall paled a little at her question. “Of course he has a name, but you will find out soon enough that our people tend not to speak it. We usually refer to him as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but if you must know, his name is Voldemort.”

…

After researching well the comings and goings of trains, buses and tube lines, she was finally ready to embark on her shopping adventure in the wizarding world. There was anxiety present, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a bit excited.

She went through her list of things to make sure she wasn’t missing anything, then, after she was ready and had her scar completely covered by makeup and her hair, she left 4 Privet Drive and after a couple of hours of commute she arrived in London.

From there, she took out her maps (a map of London and the makeshift map McGonagall gave her) to navigate her way through the streets of London, although, to be honest, a GPS would’ve been much better, but … oh well, she would have to do it the old-fashioned way.

It took her about 30 minutes to find the right street and as she approached the inconspicuous building with a blank sign, the words The Leaky Cauldron slowly appeared. Slowly, she approached the entrance and entered the establishment. There were a few people there. Some of them looked her way, but quickly turned their attention elsewhere.

She let out a little sigh of relief. So, her “disguise” worked. No one had recognised her. She approached what looked to be the bartender and politely inquired about getting to Diagon Alley. The man’s face softened instantly and happily showed her to the back, where he touched some bricks in a specific order and a doorway formed.

She wouldn’t lie, she was impressed, however the sheer amount of people crowding the wizarding shopping district was giving her stomach cramps and anxiety.

She looked around and did her best to stay out of other people’s way. ‘Remember, Aya,’ she encouraged herself, ‘one step at a time.’ After several minutes of aimless wandering, she sighted the Gringotts sign. Since she couldn’t buy a single thing without wizarding money, her first stop on this shopping tour would be to collect some money from her vault.

She greeted the guards stationed outside the door, as well as every … creature she encountered inside. Everyone appeared to be busy with one thing or another and as much as she didn’t want to bother them, she finally spoke up. “Eh, excuse me,” she said to anyone willing to give her some attention, “it’s my first time here, and I’m a little lost.”

After several creatures looked at her weirdly, one of them approached her with a frown. “How may I help you, child?”

“Good day, my name is Aya Potter and I would like to withdraw some money from my vault for school supplies.”

The creature’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but was quickly gone and replaced by a sneer. “And does Aya Potter have her key?”

“Of course,” she said, as she searched around her rucksack. “Here it is.”

The creature took it, inspected it and after not finding anything wrong with it returned it to her. “Follow me, please.”

She did as told. He? … It? The creature led her to the back, where a cart was waiting. She climbed inside with the creature and the moment they started to move, she started to get horrible flashbacks to the roller-coaster ride at the last school field trip to the Amusement Park.

Tightly closing her eyes and hanging to the side of the cart, she suffered through the infernal Gringotts cart ride. When they arrived at their destination, she felt motion-sick and light-headed.

The creature didn’t wait for her to recover, and requested her key again. She handed it to him. She peeked through one eye to see what was going one but was quite dark to see anything. When the doors to her vault opened however, she gaped at the mountains of gold, silver and bronze coins.

“Take however much you need,” it said.

Aya collected herself and said apologetically, “I don’t know how much will be enough for all my supplies.”

The creature looked at her for a while, then asked her for a pouch (she handed him a small-sized bag) and proceeded to fill it almost to the brim with gold. “Hopefully, this will be enough. As you purchase things, the shopkeepers should return you the change in sickles and knuts.”

She accepted the full bag and thanked the creature, while apologising for being a burden.

Another infernal cart ride later, she was back on the surface, inhaling fresh air. She placed the money-filled bag in her rucksack and instead pulled out her water bottle to refresh herself.

After the dizziness and the urge to spill out her guts subsided, she looked at her watch to see the time. It was nearing noon. 

Since she didn’t know where to find the things on her list, she decided it would make sense for her to visit every shop, from the Gringotts side of the alley and move slowly towards the Leaky Cauldron.

…

Five hours and a sandwich later, she finally managed to get everything she needed and a little extra to familiarise herself with the wizarding world. Luckily, she managed to get everything without running out of money (in fact, she still got a lot of it, luckily, she could just throw it inside her trunk, and the Dursleys would be none the wiser) and without any incidents, unless her visit at Ollivander’s shop counted as such.

She was surprised that he seemed to see through her disguise and it _was_ curious that she had the wand that was the sibling of the one belonging to Voldemort, but other than that, nothing really happened.

Exhausted and with one sandwich still waiting for her in the rucksack, she returned to her sanctuary at 4 Privet Drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you, but I had a blast writing Aya in this chapter. Maybe it's just me but she makes me laugh, I hope she will be able to make you laugh as well. 
> 
> Next week, we finally start Aya's first year at Hogwarts, which means she will be sorted. So, my question for all of you: which house do you think she'll be sorted in? Leave your suggestions in the comments. You don't have to, of course, but your thoughts and opinions are always lovely to read. :3
> 
> If you've noticed any mistakes, grammatical or other, kindly let me know so that I can fix it. I do proof-read my work, but I'm only human so sometimes things slip my notice. With that being said, I hope you enjoyed this week's chapter and I'll see you next Friday. :)


	3. First Year: First Semester

September 1st came all too quickly in Aya’s opinion. As she had promised the Dursleys, she never once mentioned anything related to her upcoming magical education. She also kept anything related to the wizarding world in her closet; hidden just in case should one of her relatives enter her room.

Outside of switching her reading material for the rest of August from science fiction and crime novels to her schoolbooks and books about the wizarding world, everything continued as normal. She still cleaned her room in conjunction with the same household chores she’d been doing for most of her childhood.

On the eve before the new school year, after she was done washing the dishes, she packed everything she needed in the trunk, and then double-checked everything to make sure she didn’t forget anything.

After a rough night of barely catching any sleep, she woke up before anyone else, then took her time to get ready (she masked her scar with a bit of Petunia’s make-up again, and braided her hair in a way her braid fell over one shoulder and the long bangs in front covered the side with the scar) and prepared breakfast and a couple of sandwiches for herself.

By the time her relatives came down to eat, she was already ready to go. Only aunt Petunia sent her off (in a way), telling her she was expecting her to return for Christmas to help her with the family dinner featuring Vernon’s sister Marge.

…

She arrived at King’s Cross an hour early. She found platforms nine and ten. Then, after the non-magical people dispersed, she walked right through the wall. On the other side, a red train with a sign ‘Hogwarts Express’ greeted her as well as the sign for the platform 9 ¾.

There were barely any people on the platform and if there were, they stood together in small groups, having their last conversation before the children had to go.

Taking advantage of the emptiness of the platform and the train, she managed to snug a compartment all to herself. She closed the door and the curtains to obscure it from the other passengers and proceeded to take out a companion book to the Potions textbook that the clerk at the bookshop recommended for beginners where different preparation methods for ingredients were discussed as well as the most common ingredients, their properties and their function in potions.

She was already through a fifth of the book by the time the train started moving and she hoped nobody would interrupt her blissful solitude. She was not yet ready to deal with magical peers.

…

An hour or two into the journey, she felt pressure in her bladder. She should have looked around the train for a toilet. She sincerely hoped the train had toilets because, they surely didn’t expect teenagers and children to hold their bladders for nine hours straight.

A moment later, someone knocked on her compartment door, then it slid open and an elderly woman with a trolley appeared.

“Anything off the trolley, dear?”

She looked at the trolley and supposed it was filled with wizard candy. She smiled politely. “I think I’ll pass,” she said. “I’m trying to watch my sugar intake.” In reality, she didn’t trust the candy.

When the woman was about to move along the wagon, she stopped her with a question. “Excuse me, it’s my first time on the Hogwarts Express, and I was wondering if there were any restrooms around here.”

“Why of course,” exclaimed the woman. “There are restrooms at the ends of each wagon.”

“Thank you.”

…

With her bladder relieved and a grumbling stomach, Aya returned to her compartment to unpack her lunch.

She slowly ate her sandwich and watched the scenery outside the window. After she finished her lunch and drank some more water, she tried to return to the book but could only go through five pages before giving up tired.

She still had around four hours before they would arrive, so she could doze off for a while.

She took off her shoes and tucked her arms under her head to act as pillows and let the moving train lull her to sleep.

…

Aya woke abruptly half an hour before arrival. She stretched, still half asleep, but looked on the hallway to see what was going on.

Most of the people she saw had their Hogwarts robes on, and those who didn’t were walking to the toilets with a change of clothes and when they came out they were dressed in robes.

After another trip to the restroom, she returned to her compartment and quickly changed into her Hogwarts robes.

…

A booming voice greeted them as they exited the train. Aya followed it to its source and froze for a second when she was faced with a giant.

‘At least it looks friendly,’ she thought. ‘I wonder if he’s a professor.’

“Firs’ years over here!”

‘On second thought, I hope he’s not.’

“Firs’ years follow me!”

All the first years followed him, slipping and stumbling in the dark, along a long, steep and narrow path to a large body of water where boats were waiting for them on the shore.

“No more’n four to a boat,” called the giant.

She followed three other girls to a boat, and once everybody was distributed equally, they began moving after the giant shouted “FORWARD!”

Aya tried to remain as quiet and invisible as possible and instead focused on her surroundings. Something that looked like a medieval castle taken right out of some Disney Princess movie came into her view, and she had to do her best not to lose her shit fangirling.

Although … on second thought, she hoped the interior was somewhat modern, because she was not a fan of squatting toilets.

…

After they drifted along a tunnel in the cliff face covered by a curtain of ivy, they reached what looked to be a harbour. Then, they went up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, wooden door.

As soon as the door opened, Professor McGonagall, dressed in emerald-green robes, was waiting for them in front of another set of wooden doors.

After all the first years stood in the Entrance Hall and McGonagall addressed them in a speech, they were led into the Great Hall where other students were waiting for them at four large tables.

At the end of the room another large table stood, where the entire Hogwarts staff had a seat. In front of the Staff table stood a small stool with a mangled hat on it. It took her by surprise, when it started to talk … or rather recite a poem.

Normally, she wasn’t a fan of poetry, but she had to admit that this poem was good and the content wasn’t nearly as abstract as some of the poems from the likes of Shakespeare … or Gongora.

The Hall exploded in cheers and clapping and Aya joined in as well.

When the applause died down, McGonagall announced, “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.”

She unrolled the parchment scroll she was holding and started to call out names.

Even after half the students were sorted, Aya still didn’t really understand how wearing a hat determined the house you would be sorted in. Maybe something unseen happened between the time you put the hat on and the name of the house was announced to the Hall.

Until now, there seemed to be quite a lot people sorted into Hufflepuff and Slytherin, with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw having the fewest so far. But hey, they still had half to go.

When it was her turn, the Hall was submerged into general silence with a few indistinguishable whispers coming from every table.

Now that they knew what she looked like, she hoped they were informed about her wishes to be treated normally. She supposed she could let it slide the first night, but if from tomorrow onwards people crowded around her like paparazzi or rabid fans asking for a selfie or an autograph, or bombarded her with stupid questions about her scar and how she defeated Voldemort, she was going to report them in a blink of an eye.

She strode to the stool as confidently as she could, sending a nod of acknowledgement to McGonagall. Then, she took a seat and waited for the hat to be placed on her head.

…

Almost immediately, Aya could hear a small voice in her head.

“Hmmm, interesting,” it said, “very interesting, indeed. You are an odd one. Not particularly brave, but you are extremely straightforward and you are not afraid to speak your mind when needed, which takes guts to pull off. You are extremely non-confrontational, but can be downright nasty if provoked. You are not particularly ambitious, but then again, you do not seem to have any idea yet of what you want to be. However, whatever you choose to become, you are more than willing to work hard to get it, since you have learned the value of hard work from a very young age and do not take anything for granted. You seem to be smart, and you place a lot of importance on knowledge, but not in the same way as Rowena Ravenclaw. What do I do with you?” the hat questioned.

“At this point, it could be any house, but I think one house has a slight edge over the rest. So, I ask you: do you have any preference?”

“I don’t really have a preference. I don’t know anything about what qualifies you for what house, so, I don’t really mind where you put me.”

“Hmmm, a student without any preference from the get go, now that is refreshing and a first in a long, long time,” mused the hat. “Well, if you don’t mind, then, better be … HUFFLEPUFF!”

…

She joined the table with the black and yellow banner with a badger in the middle, completely ignoring any surprised gasps and whispers that followed her sorting. Really, these people put too much importance on something like that.

She greeted her housemates politely, and then proceeded to pay attention to the remainder of the sorting.

After the last first year student was sorted into Slytherin, the Headmaster made an announcement about not using magic in the hallways, not to be out of bed after curfew, not to go into the Forbidden Forest, and a promise of dying a most painful death should some brave, or foolish enough soul wander into the third floor corridor.

That was the first time since she came to Hogwarts that she doubted her decision to come.

Dinner ended up being a pleasant affair and after singing; or rather listening, to the rest of the student body sing what appeared to be the school anthem, the Prefects led them to their common room.

She was pleasantly surprised to learn their rooms were in the dungeon, next to the kitchen. Now, if she skipped meals in the Dining Hall she could always come to the kitchen and ask for some food.

Unfortunately, the rooms were shared between three people with a communal bathroom, one for girls and one for boys. It would appear that for the next seven years, if she managed to endure for so long, she would share her room with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot.

At least she got her own desk for homework and studying.

…

Before September was out, Aya was ready to leave Hogwarts for good and never come back.  

There have been a total of _four_ incidents so far involving her health being endangered in some way, shape or form. And she wasn’t even directly responsible for any of it.

It all started with her first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, which also happened to be her first class at Hogwarts as well. She felt so nervous, even more nervous than the professor himself, if all the stuttering was anything to go by, that her scar started to palpitate, pain cutting into her head like a knife.

She felt cold sweat burst on her skin, her lips drying, her stomach cramping up and black spots dance in front of her eyes. “I don’t feel so good,” she murmured, hoping someone would hear her.

There was some commotion and suddenly, there was Professor Quirrell kneeling in front of her with a worried expression.

A wave of pungent smell invaded her nostrils, making her stomach lurch. She grabbed at Quirrell’s robes, clutching them in a deadly grip.

“Professor … I,” before she could say anything, she felt the taste of bile in the back of her throat, and after a few more cramps all over her body, she emptied her stomach into a container that Quirrell had summoned earlier.

She transferred her grip from Quirrell’s robes to the edge of the bowl and continued to barf. A cold compression was placed on the nape of her neck as well as her forehead. She welcomed the hand supporting her forehead, because every time a new wave of puke came out of her mouth, she felt the urge to lean forward.

The urge to puke subsided after the fifth round, while the pounding in her head was still present, but was it just her or was it numbing a bit. When Quirrell removed the cloth from her forehead, she could hear gasps coming from her fellow students.

She tried to focus on her professor and caught a glimpse of the damp cloth. There was a red splotch. ‘Oh, great,’ she thought self-deprecatingly, ‘just what I needed.’

She collapsed into Quirrell and closed her eyes.

…

After that, Quirrell carried her to the infirmary, where she spent the rest of the day. She felt bad for missing the rest of the classes, but she could always ask her roommates what they did and if there was any homework.

The second incident occurred during her first Potions lesson.

It started fine, brilliant even, when after taking the register, Professor Snape gave his, apparently, famous opening speech. With black robes, and barely audible whisper, he captured the attention of the entire classroom, and by the time he finished speaking, all Aya could think about was how Professor Snape should have been awarded an Oscar for the Best Opening Speech and Best Delivery.

She was quickly pulled back into reality, when he called her name. “Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

‘Oh, snap,’ went through her head. This sounded like a question one would get on _Who wants to be a Millionaire_. However, it sounded familiar. She definitely read this somewhere. But where?

Snape was getting impatient and gleeful at the same time at her silence.

“Uh, a special sleeping potion?” she provided with an inflection at the end.

“Are you asking or telling me, Miss Potter?” he levelled her with an unnerving look that made her break out in sweat.

“Telling you, sir,” she answered with more confidence.

“Good,” he seemed pleased. “It’s not the exact answer I was looking for, but you are correct in your assumption that it is a sleeping potion. Next question. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Oh, she knew that. “Well, it depends. If one wants to skip the process of extraction, they would simply have to go to a store that sells potions ingredients and buy a bezoar there. However, if one wants a fresh bezoar straight from the source, then they would find it in the stomach of a goat.”

“Good,” Snape praised her again, and for some reason that made her feel accomplished. “And what is a bezoar, Miss Potter?”

“It’s a stone that can save you from most poisons.”

Snape regarded her with a strange expression, before he said, “One last question, Miss Potter.” She prepared herself. “What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“Except for the different name, both refer to the same plant, sir.”

Aya could have sworn the tiniest hint of smile appeared on Snape’s face as he nodded satisfied with her answers. “Very good, Miss Potter. Five points to Hufflepuff.”

Her fellow students couldn’t believe their ears, while Aya was trying to smother the grin on her face.

Soon, they were paired off for the practical part of the lesson, where they were expected to follow the recipe on the blackboard and brew a simple potion to cure boils. Simple enough.

Where things became complicated was when they were all in the middle of brewing, and fumes of all sorts started to fill the classroom. The smell in the classroom was stronger than she anticipated and it started to make her light-headed.

Before she knew it, she was on the floor, unconscious. When she came to next, she was in Snape’s arms on her way to the infirmary, looking confused at her surroundings.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” she whispered apologetically, once she was lying on a bed. “I didn’t want to cause a scene.”

“Are you feeling better, Miss Potter?”

“Still a bit confused, but at least I remember my name and where I am and how I ended in this position.”

“Does this occur to you often?” he inquired, amused. “Fainting in class I mean.”

“Only since I’ve come to Hogwarts, it would seem,” retorted Aya in a light-hearted banter.

A silence fell over them.

“Everything here is new to me,” she sighed heavily. “The first day, I was extremely nervous, which resulted in stomach cramps, but I also suddenly experienced a head-splitting headache with the scar as the epicentre. With those two things combined, I got sick and emptied the contents of my stomach in Quirrell’s class.”

“And today?” Snape pressed on. “You didn’t seem too nervous while you were answering my questions, and I hope I didn’t cause you a head-splitting headache,” he joked.

A giggle escaped her. “Nothing of the sort. In fact, you made me feel accomplished,” she assured with a smile. “No, what went wrong today were the fumes.”

“The fumes?”

“Yes, the potion fumes. There were so many and with a strong smell that made me light-headed and … the next thing I know is collapsing and waking up in your arms, being carried away like a Disney princess.”

Snape narrowed his eyes, but a corner of his lips was tugged upwards. “I see. Well, next time you feel light-headed because of your delicate nose, make sure to speak up before another similar incident happens. Good day, Miss Potter.”

“Good day to you too, Professor Snape,” she called after him.

…

The third incident happened during her first Herbology lesson (there seems to be a pattern here, if you haven’t noticed yet).

At first, everything seemed fine. They were in a greenhouse, listening to Professor Sprout, surrounded by plants, until twenty minutes into the lesson, Aya’s eyes started to water and itch. Then her nose became runny and stuffy. There was a rasping feeling in her throat, and she felt like her wind pipe was becoming constricted, and it was getting hard to breathe.

Thirty minutes in, she felt like scratching her skin off, there were red spots all over her skin and it wasn’t until her classmates next to her looked her way that she knew for sure there was something wrong, because they immediately called to Professor Sprout, who also paled a bit when she saw the state she was in.

Once again, she was escorted to the infirmary, where both Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape had to work together to help her get through the ordeal.

They rid her of clothing and covered her in heaps of ointment and bandages to deal with the redness and rashes. As for her breathing, they placed what looked to be an imitation of an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.

After her breathing normalised, both Pomfrey and Snape did some tests and concluded she must have had an allergic reaction to something in the greenhouse. The problem was that, since there were so many weird plants in the greenhouse, it was impossible to say which plant caused that kind of reaction in her.

For the time being, Snape was tasked with preparing a potion that would counter an allergic reaction, but just to be on the safe side, every time she was to have Herbology lessons, she would need to wear an outfit that left no part of her skin exposed, and that had its own air supply.

She felt ridiculous. With the suit on, she received weird and pitiful looks from her fellow housemates and the staff and snickers from the Slytherin table and a few Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.

Oh, she knew she looked like an alien and sounded like Darth Vader. But at least it kept the allergies away.

She sighed. ‘This is not how I expected my magical school life to be.’

…

The fourth and last major incident involving her well-being was the first flying lesson.

She wasn’t a fan of flying in general, much less on a broom, due to her fear of heights, and given that her house had their flying lesson after the disaster that occurred in the joint Gryffindor-Slytherin class, with a boy named Neville Longbottom suffering an accident after losing control of his broom … well it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that for the first time she really considered skipping a class altogether.

Seeing her nervousness, her roommates tried their best to assure her she wasn’t the only one nervous about flying. She appreciated the effort to calm her down, but knowing she wasn’t alone in her panicking wasn’t as nearly enough to make her feel better.

She followed the professor’s instructions with apprehension. She had a death grip on the broom handle even before kicking off into the air. When she felt herself rise, she let out a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

“Okay, now that you are in the air, try to do a circle around the grounds,” encouraged Madam Hooch.

‘Oh no. No way. I’m done with this shit.’

She opened one eye, briefly looked down, and immediately closed it again while a panicked squeal left her.

She wanted to get down. She _needed_ to get back on firm ground, or she would lose her shit altogether.

In her panic, she forgot how to get down. Did Hooch even tell them how to get down? Her breathing became shallow and erratic, her limbs started to feel numb from all the little prickling needles. Her vision darkened and she couldn’t feel her lips or face anymore.

As if from a distance, she could hear a voice, but couldn’t quite make out what it was saying.

Once she felt solid ground beneath her legs and hands, she tried to focus on calming herself, on regulating her breathing.

As her breathing normalised, she regained feeling in her limbs and face, and her vision cleared.

She knew another trip to the infirmary was in order. However, she hoped she could use this incident to her advantage in the future. She wasn’t below using instances like panic attack and fear of heights to avoid flying at all cost.

…

Outside those four major incidents in September, the rest of Aya’s school life was okay … well mostly. It would appear that despite sending a warning beforehand about how she wishes and expects her fellow schoolmates to treat her, some thought themselves above that warning and still came to her asking about the night of the attack or asking to see her scar. 

Some idiots, namely Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley, even had the _gall_ to imply that because she was the Girl-Who-Lived, she should be friends with them. As if being friends with them would benefit her greatly. Even if they were the only people in the world to befriend, she would still rather die than to be in the same room as those two annoying shits.

In short, she stayed true to her threats and reported each and every instance where her fellow students failed to remember to treat her like a normal human being. And she reported them to none other than Professor Snape.

A week or so into the school year, it was more than clear to her that the professor had a grudge against Gryffindors. It was evident every time he deducted points for things that couldn’t even be considered transgressions. And if rumours about him were to be believed, he relished in making students squirm and cry. A real sadist that one. Not that there was anything wrong with him being a sadist, but she couldn’t fathom how the headmaster allowed someone with that disposition to teach in an environment full of impressionable and easily traumatised youth.

He was, however, partial to his own house, no surprise there really, considering three quarters of the school hated or were extremely weary of Slytherins.

With this knowledge, she went to him every time a student forgot her conditions and, since most of the students who overstepped their boundaries were Gryffindors (with a few Ravenclaws thrown in the mix), it felt like killing two birds with one stone: Professor Snape could indulge in his sadism against Gryffindors by deducting anything from 10 to 50 points per student plus detention … And she got left alone.

By the end of the month, nobody bothered her anymore, and Snape seemed a bit dejected to have lost his opportunity to deduct massive amounts of points from Gryffindor. Of course, Gryffindor ended up losing the most points, followed by Ravenclaw, while Slytherin and Hufflepuff learned through observation and learned extremely quickly not to mess with her.

…

October, November and December passed by quickly and with nothing noteworthy happening, except maybe the troll incident on All Hallows Eve, where a Gryffindor girl Hermione Granger was injured and hospitalised in the infirmary for two weeks. Luckily, the injuries didn’t have any permanent consequences, but she didn’t really know what happened as she wasn’t in the Great Hall but in her room, sleeping like a dead person.

By the time December was ending, she was looking forward to returning to 4 Privet Drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... I decided to put Aya into Hufflepuff. I hope I don't lose any readers and subscribers over this, because I know that many of you reading might think she doesn't fit into the house, but believe me when I say she does. Maybe not as she is now, but in the long-run it will end up making sense. 
> 
> As I read through what each house stands for or values, I realised that she had qualities of every house (yes, even Gryffindor) some more than others, but what influenced my decision was the environment the people in each house would create for her. Because of that, Gryffindor was immediately out of the question because of people like Ron and, except for Hermione, other Gryffindor girls didn't leave a good impression on me. Ravenclaw with its infamous academic competitiveness wouldn't sit well with Aya, because she isn't looking to prove anything (she still doesn't want to fail or be below average, but she isn't trying to compete with anyone). Slytherin is known to have its own power dynamic where connections, reputation and political and financial power (as well as pure-blood traditions and thinking) matter, and since Aya doesn't know and quite frankly doesn't give a shit about it, she would feel oppressed and extremely uncomfortable in their company. Hufflepuff felt like the best place, because they are supposed to be accepting and have respect for others.
> 
> Regardless of whether you agree with my decision and the reasoning behind it, I hope you still enjoyed the chapter and Aya's personality. And what did you think of her and Snape's interaction or her thoughts about Snape in general? I also want to thank all the brave people who left a comment on the previous chapter, and all the people who decided to leave new kudos. I'm grateful for all the support through subscriptions and bookmarks as well. :)
> 
> I'll see you next Friday, when Aya and Voldemort finally meet face-to-face for the first time. :3 And if you notice anything, don't hesitate to tell me. :3


	4. First Year – Second Semester: Encounter with Voldemort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a couple of things to say before I leave you with the chapter.
> 
> First, thank you for the continuous support through comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions. 
> 
> Second, If everything goes according to plan today, I will be able to finish chapter 15 and then I'll have only 5 chapters remaining until I have the entire first part of the trilogy written. I'm currently writing fifth year and all I can say is that it's juicy. I have another pairing going on in the background, but I don't know when to tag it not to give the information away too early. 
> 
> And now, enjoy the chapter. :)

Christmas at the Dursleys proved to be an okay affair. On Christmas morning, a package from an unknown sender addressed to her appeared in her room. Immediately wary of the contents, she shoved the package into the closet and didn’t open it until she got back to Hogwarts.

Her present turned out to be a … blanket? A very peculiar and intriguing blanket, but blanket nonetheless. Apparently, if she covered herself with it, she became invisible.

‘Oh, well,’ she shrugged mentally, ‘might be useful for when I want some peace and quiet for reading.’ But until then, the blanket will remain at the bottom of her trunk, hidden from the rest of the world.

…

The second semester showed promise to be an overall better semester than the first. She mostly got used to the school subjects and she even managed to cast a few spells successfully. She even got a bit closer to her roommates, close enough to consider them close acquaintances but not yet friends.

As April rolled by, the fifth and seventh year students were in a studying frenzy preparing for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, respectively. By the middle of May, the rest of the students started to prepare for their finals as well, but with all the bloody assignments, they couldn’t even study properly.

Aya and her roommates decided to form a study group. They were determined to pass the exams with flying colours, if possible. They came up with a studying schedule and could be seen going between the library and their room after classes.

One day during one of their studying sessions, Hermione Granger shyly approached them and asked if she could join their study group. Although reluctant to disrupt the dynamic they had formed in the past few weeks, they welcomed her into their fold, which turned out to be an overall good decision that benefited all of them.

A week before exams, Aya et company were more than fed up with all the study material, and were already daydreaming about summer vacation, and all the things they would do once the school let out.

Taking a break from the intensive study session in their dorm, Aya urgently needed a bathroom break and some snacks to keep her going.

After relieving herself, she walked to the school kitchen to get some fruit and biscuits for herself and her companions. However, on her way there, a force hit her from behind and made her lose consciousness.

…

When Aya came to, she needed a few moments to collect her wits. In the meantime, she took in her surroundings and felt at a loss, as she didn’t recognize the room she was in. A hiss of pain escaped her lips, as she clutched at her itching scar.

‘Not this again,’ she moaned to herself.

“Ah, Miss Potter,” a voice came from somewhere behind her, “how nice of you to finally wake up.”

She looked back and saw …

“Professor Quirrell?” She couldn’t believe it. “What are you doing here? Were you captured as well?”

A low, chill-inducing laughter left Quirrell’s lips. “How nice of you to worry about me. But no, I’m here, because I want to be.”

Uneasiness settled in Aya’s stomach and chest. This didn’t sound nor look good.

“I don’t understand … Were you the one who knocked me out?”

“Indeed I was, Miss Potter. You see … I need your help with something.”

“Really?” she frowned, confused. “Well … I don’t mind helping you, but … couldn’t you have just asked me, instead of kidnapping me from a corridor like some common criminal?”

Another round of laughter escaped him.

“What’s done is done. You’re here, and that is all that matters right now.” He beckoned her with a hand. “Come here,” he said.

She really didn’t want to, but she feared what would happen if she didn’t do as he said more. Therefore, she approached him with measured steps, while ready to run and hide at the first sign of danger.

She stopped in front of a mirror.

Confused as to what to do, she carefully addressed the professor. “Now what?”

“I want you to look at the mirror and tell me what you see.”

She was tempted to say something that questioned her professor’s sanity. But hey, who was she to question the actions of her professor? For all she knew this might be a special mirror, so she only limited herself to a reluctant ‘okay’, before looking at it.

For a moment nothing happened, until she started blinking and rubbing her eyes.

Her reaction prompted Quirrell to ask, “What is it?” he looked greedily at the mirror. “What do you see?”

“Professor,” she asked with longing in her eyes, as a string of saliva threatened to slip out of her mouth, “does this mirror show the future or our desires?”

The gluttonous glint in Aya’s eyes took Quirrell by surprise. “This is the Mirror of Erised,” he explained, confused. “And yes, if you read the inscription above it backwards, it reads: I show not your face, but your heart’s desire.”

Wonder spread across Aya’s face and, speechless, she returned her gaze to the mirror.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Quirrell focused on what was important. “Anyway, this is not the point, Miss Potter,” but she still seemed to be in her own little world, gazing at the mirror.

“Miss Potter,” he snapped at her and snapped his fingers in front of her face, which finally seemed to bring her out of her daze, “focus. Tell me: what do you see?”

“Well … I see myself surrounded by luxurious food and heaps of sweets. There’s a chocolate fountain, with dancing cupcakes and a bed made of cake, and I’m in the middle of a buttercream bath it would seem, drinking a smoothie,” she narrowed her eyes and frowned, looking a bit closer, “or is that a milkshake?”

A voice that could only be described as satanic echoed through the room and interrupted her sweet daydream.

“Let me speak to her … face to face.”

Aya started to look around the room and towards the ceiling, and then, before she could stop herself, she said in a whisper, “Satan? Is that you?”

The bodiless voice cackled ruggedly. “Not Satan, but I suppose that to many, I’m as close to one as it can be,” it told her, slightly muffled, but she still couldn’t pinpoint from where it was coming.

“Master, you’re not strong enough,” interjected Quirrell.

“Silence,” snapped the voice. “I have strength enough for this.”

Quirrell started to unravel his turban. When he took it off, Aya let out an uncomfortable scream as a string of curses left her mouth, all the while covering her eyes and squeezing them shut.

“From what horror movie is this?” she exclaimed, still breathing heavily and not daring to look at the monstrosity in front of her for more than a split second.

“Look at me, Aya Potter,” the face on the back of Quirrell’s head demanded. She stood her ground with her eyes closed and shook her head violently. “Look at what I’ve become,” it continued to speak. “Mere shadow and vapour.”

A realization hit her like a ton of bricks. “Wait,” she whispered breathlessly, “You’re Voldemort.” She looked at him but almost immediately turned away.

“Correct.”

Aya couldn’t believe this. ‘So … it is true. He still lives.’ And he must be out for her blood. What does one say when faced with their attempted murderer?

“So …” she ventured, peaking at his face. “You’re still alive?” ‘Nice, Aya,’ she admonished herself mentally. ‘Really nice.’

A self-deprecating grin formed on the disfigured face. “If you can even call this living,” he allowed. “I only have form when sharing another’s body, but it’s not the same.”

She winced and struggled to keep her eyes on Voldemort.

“I want … I _need_ my own body.” If the sight wasn’t so disturbing, she might have felt pity instead of discomfort.

“And … you want me to help you get it?” she inquired.

“Yes,” he hissed absentmindedly. “In a way.”

His red, snake-like eyes seemed to pierce right through her. 

“Okay,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll help you.”

If Voldemort had eyebrows, he would have raised them in surprise.

“But … if I help you … could you, like, not kill me?” she asked, expecting to be offed the second her petition left her mouth.

Instead, another round of rugged laughter came from Voldemort, and she could’ve sworn there was an amused and intrigued glint in his penetrating eyes.

“You’re an interesting one, Aya Potter.”

Aya looked at him, unsure of how to respond to such a statement. “Uh, thank you? I do try my best to be unique and normal at the same time.” ‘Oh my shit, Aya, just shut your ass up before you say something that might piss Voldemort off!’ she screamed at herself internally.

Voldemort regarded her as if she were a mystery he couldn’t seem to comprehend. “You know … for the past ten years … all I’ve thought about was getting a body … and finding a way to kill you in the most excruciatingly painful way possible.”

She braced herself.

He continued. “When I heard about you attending Hogwarts this year, I was looking forward to getting my hands on you … but then … McGonagall showed us the memory of you two conversing … and you were nothing like what I imagined you would be.”

Was that a good thing? Yo, anything that might make Voldemort want to spare her worked just fine in her book.

“Then you were sorted into Hufflepuff, mostly kept out of trouble … if one doesn’t count those incidents in September … a diligent student … And now, that you’re exactly where I want you to be …” he trailed off and she couldn’t decide what that meant. Was he trying to say that he was letting her live or not? The suspense was killing her!

He chuckled at her nervousness. “Let’s just say I’m interested to see what you’ll become in a few years.”

“I’ll do my best not to disappoint.”

“See that you don’t. Now, back to business. As interesting as what you saw in the mirror is, I need you to focus on something else.”

“Okay …”

“I need you to get me a stone.”

That wasn’t exactly helpful. “What kind of stone?” she pressed him for more information.

“The Philosopher’s stone.”

The reverent tone of Voldemort’s voice made her think it was a very special stone … However, she still had no clue what kind of stone she was looking for.

“I still have no idea what exactly I should be focussing on,” she informed him. “I mean, I don’t know how the Philosopher’s stone looks like. I’ve never seen in it my life. So, please, be more specific. You know, size, colour … that shit.”

“It’s a deep red stone that could probably fit into your palm,” provided Voldemort.

“Aha.” Aya nodded. “And you really think the stone you’re after is _in_ side the mirror?” She couldn’t help but feel a bit sceptical about it. How does one even put a stone inside a mirror?

“I’m certain. Knowing Dumbledore, he put the Philosopher’s stone inside and put some ridiculous conditions to get it. Because neither myself nor Quirrell can get to it.” There was frustration in his voice and Aya concluded that she had better hurry, before Voldemort changed his mind in leaving her alive.

“Okay …” She was standing in front of the mirror again, clearing her mind of everything but the precious red, Philosopher’s stone.

She closed her eyes and concentrated _really_ hard, then looked at the mirror and after what seemed like an eternity, she saw her reflection move. She followed her movements and gaped when she saw, and felt, a red stone fall into her pocket.

“What is it?” inquired Voldemort impatiently. “Did you get it?”

“I think it worked,” she breathed, relieved, prying the stone out of her trousers. Voldemort’s eyes were fixed on his prize.

“Give it to me,” he demanded.

Aya hesitated, because once she handed Voldemort the stone, she had nothing to go on but his word to let her live. She might be risking Voldemort’s wrath, but this was her survival at stake … and she was willing to gamble earning Voldemort’s ire if it meant guaranteeing her survival.

“I’ve seen this scenario play out in movies and novels too many times for me to just trust your word to let me live,” she spoke in a measured voice, trying to exude confidence she didn’t feel. She looked him straight in the eyes. “How do I know you won’t kill me as soon as I hand you over the stone?”

Voldemort’s grimace relaxed into an amused one. “You don’t,” he said simply, accompanied by a vicious grin and glint in his eyes.

“Look … I don’t want to get in your way and I won’t. If you want to conquer and rule the world and do your Dark Lord business, you are more than free to do so. Who am I to say what’s right and what’s wrong? I just want to live. Is that so much to ask?”

She knew she sounded desperate and pathetic, but she was willing to beg on her knees in a _dogeza_ position, _any_ thing to get out of this shit alive.

Voldemort regarded her with narrowed, calculating eyes. Then, Quirrell’s hand extended towards her and he simply said, “The stone.”

With her heart pounding in her chest, Aya reluctantly let go of the Philosopher’s stone and closed her eyes. When nothing happened, she opened them and saw Quirrelmort walk away, a grin on Voldemort’s face. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Dumbfounded, she called after him, “You’re welcome … Oh, and good luck in all your future endeavours.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Now that the danger had passed, she collapsed on all fours, still struggling to comprehend what just occurred. Did she really just talk Voldemort out of killing her? Maybe there was some real power behind Naruto’s _Talk-no-Jutsu_. After an ordeal like that one, she really needed some sugar. Which reminded her …

“Shit … I forgot to ask him how to get out of here.”

She started pacing around the room looking for an exit, but black flames blocked the only exit. There didn’t seem to be a bathroom either. Just that mirror in this huge ass room.

“It’s a good thing I went to the toilet first,” she said to herself. “Imagine being stuck in here with no toilet.” She clutched her grumbling stomach. “But I’m still hungry.” She glanced towards the mirror, but quickly shook her head. “I’m not looking at the mirror again. It’ll only make me hungrier than I already am.”

She heaved a sigh, still hugging herself and pacing from one side to the other.

“Come on, Susan … Hannah,” she muttered under her breath. “You must have noticed by now that I’ve been absent for way too long … Unless you thought I was taking a shit. You know … One of those that takes a while to get out.”

She let out a desperate and frustrated sigh.

“Aya, relax,” she encouraged herself. “Don’t panic. It’s … still too early for you to panic. If, when you wake up after taking a nap, there’s still no one to rescue you, _then_ you can panic as much as you wish.”

She sat down on the floor, hugging her knees, and stared in front of her. When she got tired of that, she decided her best option right now was to try to sleep for a bit. Maybe someone will get to her by the time she wakes up … And if not … Well; she already knew she could panic.

…

She woke up to someone shaking her shoulder and calling her name. She carefully opened her eyes and after blinking a few times, Professor Snape’s face came into focus. He looked worried.

Grimacing and stretching, she lifted herself up and began rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Miss Potter, are you alright?” he inquired.

“Aha,” she managed to get out and yawn at the same time. “Just hungry, thirsty, tired, slightly cold … and another visit to the toilet would be much appreciated.”

“What happened? What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was on the way to the kitchen when Quirrell knocked me out then brought me here to help him and Voldemort get the Philosopher’s stone.”

At Voldemort’s name, Snape flinched violently and paled.

“After I helped them get the stone, they left,” she concluded her narrative.

Snape gaped at her as if she had fallen from another planet.

“You helped the Dark Lord get to the Philosopher’s stone.” She nodded with a light-hearted ‘Aha’. “You gave it to him.” She nodded again with another light-hearted ‘Aha’. “And you’re still alive?”

“I know,” she sounded like she couldn’t believe it herself. “I can’t believe I managed to talk Voldemort into letting me live … But don’t ask me about what exactly I said to him, because I already forgot.”

He shook his head half-amused, half-desperate. “Only you, Miss Potter. Only you can face the Dark Lord and walk out of it alive and completely unscathed.”

“Well, I suppose that’s part of my charm, wouldn’t you say?” she commented in an upbeat manner.

He swatted her lightly on the back of the head. “I’ll give you charm. You had your friends worried and all you can do is crack up jokes?” he scorned her. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Up you go.”

He helped her to her feet and, holding her hand, he guided her outside the room.

…

There was room after room after room with no end in sight. She complained. “How much longer till we reach civilisation?”

“Just two more chambers and we’ll be in the third floor corridor,” drawled Snape.

She grimaced and let out an annoyed sigh.

Then, an idea came to her. She looked up at Professor Snape. “Professor,” she began, “could you carry me?” He glared at her. “My legs are tired.”

“No.”

“What if I faint? Will you carry me then?”

If looks could kill, she would already be a corpse.

“No.”

She looked affronted for a moment, but then let out a disappointed whine. “Aw, and here I was looking forward to being in your arms again.”

“The school hasn’t let out yet. I could still deduct some points from Hufflepuff, you know.”

Now she really looked stunned. “You wouldn’t,” she breathed, insulted.

“Oh, I would,” assured her Snape with a wicked sneer.

“What about our partnership?” she exclaimed. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

“I wasn’t aware we had one in the first place,” he said with a straight face and continued walking.

After a heartfelt reunion with her dorm mates and a trip to the headmaster’s office where she repeated to Dumbledore what she told Snape, Aya’s life returned to normal … or as normal as one’s life can be when you face hell known as exams.

…

The last few weeks of June flew by, and before she knew it, Aya was riding the Hogwarts Express back to London. This time, she sat with her roommates and Hermione.

At King’s Cross, all her friends had family waiting for them.

When they hugged for the last time, all three of her friends insisted on writing to her and sending her gifts for her birthday.

“No!” came out of her mouth. “No, it’s not necessary. Really,” she assured them. “Two months is not that much time, and you can always give me my presents when we see each other in person on the first of September.”

“Well, we could, I suppose,” said Susan reluctantly.

“Look,” sighed Aya, begging the heavens for help to explain this, “my relatives … don’t particularly like magic or anything and anyone related to it.”

Understanding reflected on their faces.

“Yes. My poor uncle is on the heavy side and one never knows what might be too much for him before his heart gives out. And I hope you can understand that I wouldn’t want to be responsible for his premature death.”

By now, all three wore shocked expressions. They numbly agreed with her reasoning and promised to tell her everything they did during the holidays when they saw each other on the train in September.

Waving, they went their separate ways. She was waiting for Hermione to go home with her parents, when she approached her and dragged her to where her parents were.

Apparently, she at least wanted to accompany her home, so she wouldn’t have to go all the way alone. And since Hermione was kind enough to offer a ride, who was she to say no.

The ride with the Grangers turned out to be extremely pleasant. When they arrived at the beginning of Privet Drive, Aya said her thank you and goodbye. With her trunk in hand, she took a deep breath and began the short walk to 4 Privet Drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aya's first year has ended and she met with Voldemort face-to-face. What do you think? Did you like it? Did you hate it? What about Aya's interaction with Snape? Let me know your thoughts and opinions (I also welcome predictions) just don't be afraid to leave a comment. :) They are always nice to read. :3
> 
> Next chapter covers Aya's summer between first and second years and it's titled A Strange Visitor. 
> 
> Until next Friday! :)


	5. A Strange Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have decided to take the suggestions of Gurgaraneth and Bee and tag the secondary relationships a chapter before it becomes evident they are going to be together. So thank you to both of you for your help. :) I also want to thank the other reviewers (Almonda and julietmonells) for leaving a comment in the previous chapter and those who left a review in previous chapters as well (BeyondHope, Eleonora, Kurochach, and EsskayTea), and as always thank you as well for all the bookmarks, kudos and subscriptions.
> 
> One last thing before I leave you the chapter, since Christmas is right around the corner, I plan on uploading a chapter on Tuesday as a Christmas gift to all my readers. :) So I hope you will enjoy it and leave a Christmas present for me in the form of comments and kudos. :3 Then, I will update as usual on Friday, 28 December, and that will also be the last time I update this year. (However, I might be convinced to update on the 31 December if enough people express such desire. ;) )
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! :)

Apparently, Hogwarts was the type of school to give a two-part summer homework for all its subjects. One part consisted of summarising what you’ve learned during the year and the other part was like a sneak peek into what awaits you the following year.

After the infernal week of exams, Aya was more than ready not to touch schoolwork until August, but another part of her brain was telling her to get the first part of the homework out of the way as soon as possible.

She ended up listening to that part of her conscience and for the first two weeks of her well-earned summer holiday, she combined her household chores with homework.

…

July was peaceful, if hot. In the week before her birthday, Vernon announced they would be hosting a business dinner for the Mason couple. It would seem that her uncle was on the verge of a good business deal, and he wanted everything to be perfect for that occasion.

Therefore, she and her aunt worked on cleaning and arranging the house, as well as trying to put together a fancy dinner menu, but not too expensive.

On the day of the dinner, Aya knew that although she helped with the dinner, she was not to partake in it, but instead remain in her room for the rest of the night. However, her relatives promised to give her a small reward for her effort if the business dinner turned out to be a success. Therefore, it was in her best interest to make sure nothing went wrong.

Knowing she wouldn’t have more opportunities to eat, she reheated some leftovers from their lunch and went upstairs.

As she entered the room, she almost dropped her dishes when her gaze landed on her bed, where a house elf in dirty rags was jumping on it.

A startled shriek escaped her. The elf stopped after noticing her presence.

“Aya Potter,” he squeaked, reverently. “Such an honour.” He bowed.

Regaining some of her semblance, she put down the dishes and glared at the creature. “Who are you? How did you get inside?” she whispered through her teeth. “What are you doing here?”

‘Not the bed,’ she whined mentally. The elf looked dirty and he was barefoot. ‘Now I’ll have to change the sheets when he leaves.’

“I’m Dobby, Miss. Dobby the house elf.”

“Charmed,” she said with sarcasm.

“Dobby heard the famous Aya Potter is at Hogwarts and Dobby has come to tell you, Miss … it is difficult, Miss … Dobby wonders where to begin.”

“How about at the beginning,” suggested Aya impatiently. She wanted to get to her dinner before it got cold again.

“Dobby has come to protect Aya Potter from mortal danger,” said the elf, and Aya felt intrigued, but mostly confused. “Dobby has heard about terrible things that will happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year. Therefore, for Aya Potter to be safe, she needs to stay away from Hogwarts. At least this year,” he concluded.

Aya was more than tempted to ask the elf what mortal danger and terrible things he was referring to, but since it would probably take time to explain, and her meal wasn’t staying any warmer, she decided to agree with the house elf. Hey, after what happened last year, it wasn’t hard to believe that someone might be plotting something deadly and terrible, fit for a gruesome crime novel.

“Okay,” she said light-heartedly and smiling, “I won’t go to Hogwarts this year.”

Dobby seemed both happy and confused. “Really, Miss?”

“Of course,” she assured him. “I mean, it would be extremely rude of me to place myself in danger, when you have so kindly come all this way to warn me and protect me from it.”

Tears flooded the creature’s eyes as a strangled sob escaped him.

‘What now?’ wondered Aya desperately, looking apprehensively towards the door.

“Miss Aya is very kind to listen to Dobby,” he sniffled as he used his dirty excuse for clothes to wipe the tears away.

Feeling sorry for the creature, although she didn’t know why it was crying in the first place, she looked around the room for a handkerchief.

“Here,” she offered when she found a paper one.

“Oh, Dobby couldn’t possibly accept.”

This was not the time to be modest when he already invaded her privacy and dirtied her bed. “Dobby, I insist. Use the handkerchief to wipe your eyes and blow your nose, otherwise you’re going to make an even bigger mess than you already have.”

“Dobby thanks Aya Potter, Miss,” replied the elf after accepting the handkerchief. “Dobby thought it would take a lot more convincing on his part to make you not return to Hogwarts.”

“Listen Dobby,” she sighed, feeling dejected, tired and hungry, “why would I want to go to a place that would, as you put it, place me in mortal danger? I don’t know what kind of image you had of me, but I’m definitely not suicidal. Now, if you don’t mind, I am going to eat my dinner in peace … and no company,” she concluded with a tight smile.

“Of course Miss,” nodded Dobby vigorously. “Dobby will leave immediately.” And just like that he disappeared with a pop.

Just as Aya began eating her dinner, a realization hit her. Her eyes widened and she let go of the fork.

“Shit,” she cursed under her breath. “I forgot to ask Dobby to warn my friends about the danger as well.” She sat there in silence for a few seconds then relaxed and continued eating.

“Oh well,” she shrugged, “I hope nothing happens to them.” She took a bite of meat with mashed potatoes.

…

With the beginning of August, Aya’s list of school supplies arrived by owl post. However, since she was taking a year off, she ignored it but saved it for future reference, since the list for next year’s second years couldn’t change drastically.

On 1 September, she woke up normally, going about her business. When she didn’t seem in a hurry to leave nor she looked like she was going anywhere, the Dursleys felt curious, but didn’t dare to ask her. It wasn’t until Petunia and her were cooking lunch that she asked her about it.

“Oh,” she said nonchalantly, “I’m taking a year off. There seem to be some problems with school safety, so I will be here, until those issues are dealt with.”

…

Sadly, her plan to have a year of peace and quiet to laze a bit came to an abrupt end the next day, when an unexpected visitor came knocking on 4 Privet Drive’s front door.

“Professor Snape!” she exclaimed in surprise after answering the door. “What are you doing here?” She covered the entrance with her little form, trying her best to block the view into the house.

Before he could state his business, her uncle called from the living room in a muffled voice. “Who is it?”

“Uh, no one important,” she called in response, while keeping eye contact with Snape. His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms at being labelled ‘no one’.

“Well, then tell them to go away,” retorted Petunia annoyed from the kitchen.

“Okay, I’ll be right back!” she yelled and shut the door, then leaned awkwardly against the door and sent the same kind of smile professor’s way.

“My relatives,” she informed him, lamely, as if that should mean anything to Professor Snape. “Don’t mind them.”

She could hear crickets in her head. She cleared her throat. “Would you like some ice cream? You look like you need one. You know … to sweeten your existence,” she babbled.

“And what, pray tell, makes you think I need anything to sweeten my existence, Miss Potter?” inquired Snape, unamused, with arms still crossed across his chest.

“Uh … your sour face?” offered Aya.

“Very amusing, Miss Potter,” he definitely didn’t sound amused. “I see that your … sense of humour has improved greatly since we’ve last seen each other. Continue in this manner and you’re on a good way to become a comedian.”

She winced at Snape’s words. What a sarcasm overload. And said with a straight face and a monotonous voice too. Good job, Professor Snape. He seemed to have improved as well.

“Anyway,” she tried to stir the conversation in a different direction, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I have come to collect you.” Straight to the point.

“Why? Has the mortal danger already been dealt with?” If so then she needed to give the staff kudos for dealing with the danger in such an efficient and quick way. However … judging by Snape’s surprised expression it looked like the school wasn’t even aware of what’s to come.

She sighed and briefly explained being visited by a house elf Dobby, who informed her of impending mortal danger at Hogwarts this year.

“And what exactly is supposed to be this … mortal danger?” inquired Snape, sarcasm permeating his voice.

She simply shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask,” she answered matter-of-factly.

Snape pinched the bridge of his hooked nose in a silent plea for patience.

“And why, pray tell, didn’t you ask, Miss Potter?” insisted Snape. “One would think that, when informed of a danger, they would want to know what the danger is and who’s behind it.”

“Well, I was hungry and my dinner was getting cold.”

Now he really looked like he was praying for all the patience of a saint he could afford.

“Regardless of the elf’s warning, you cannot simply not attend Hogwarts. And since you didn’t show up with the rest of the students at the feast, the headmaster saw it fit to send me to collect you from your relatives.”

A dramatic gasp escaped her as a hand flew to her chest.

“You would send me to my potential death just because I didn’t send in an official petition to skip a year?” she whispered emphatically.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Snape impatiently. “Now, get your things, so that we can be on our way to Hogwarts.”

“Uh…” she gulped. “Professor, that won’t be possible.”

“What do you mean?”

“You see …” she began twiddling her fingers, “Since I thought I wouldn’t have to go to school this year, I didn’t pack anything … and I also didn’t get any of my school supplies from the new list.”

Snape closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. She waited for him to say something, but there was a long silence, before he said anything. When he did, all he said was, “Pack your belongings. We’ll go to Diagon Alley first.”

“Yes, sir!” She saluted like a soldier, before disappearing behind the door.

…

As she crossed the threshold, a cross-armed and frowning Petunia greeted her. “Who were you talking to?”

‘Shit.’ How does she explain this new development, when only yesterday she announced confidently to have a year off?

“Uh … well. You see, Aunt Petunia,” she began awkwardly, “apparently the problems with school security have been dealt with sooner than anticipated, so the classes won’t be cancelled. And I need to get my things ready, immediately.” As she spoke, she was moving towards the stairs. “I’ll see you for Christmas.”

…

It took her about half an hour to throw everything in the trunk. Who cared about order now, when Professor Snape was waiting at the entrance?

Glancing around her room one last time to make sure she didn’t forget anything, she closed the lid, grabbed her luggage and hurried down the stairs.

When she exited the house, Professor Snape was waiting for her on the sidewalk. She caught up to him, slightly winded and out of breath, but smiling. “I’m all set,” she announced.

He looked her over, then nodded satisfied. He extended an arm to her. “Hold tight,” he told her. “And no matter what, don’t let go of me or your belongings.”

She gulped at the ominous nature of Snape’s words, but nodded and did as instructed. She also closed her eyes, for good measure, and it was good that she did because the next second she felt like being squeezed through a tube, feeling her stomach heave up to her throat.

Just as the extremely unpleasant feeling washed over her it was gone, but she still collapsed on the ground and tried to calm down her stomach.

“Let me know when you’re ready to move.”

She nodded, breathing heavily. It took her a good couple of minutes to get the light-headedness and the urge to puke under control, but when she did, she couldn’t help herself. “Just what was that?”

“Apparition,” responded Snape. “A very time-saving means of wizard transport … if a bit uncomfortable.”

She stumbled to her feet and dusted herself off. “So, it’s like teleportation in a sense?” she inquired curiously.

“In a way, I suppose it is,” allowed Snape. “Do you have enough money to buy the supplies, or do we need to go to Gringotts first?”

“Well, I have some money left from last year when I did my shopping. But I don’t know if it will be enough.”

“Show me,” demanded Snape. She dug out the moneybag and handed it to Snape, who, upon quick inspection, determined that it would be more than enough.

…

Shopping with Snape was efficient, fun and educational. She managed to pick up a few tricks for next year, but wouldn’t mind repeating this experience in the future.

Before apparating to Hogwarts, they did make a stop at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch and waited for the food to settle down a bit before travelling, because it would be a waste if they ended up losing their lunch because of Apparition.

Another round of hellish Apparition later and they were in front of the castle gates. They walked side by side to the entrance door and down the stairs to the dungeon, where they parted ways.

She entered the common room, which was mostly empty, and went to her dorm to unpack.

Not long after, Hannah and Susan arrived, tackling her in a group hug, bombarding her with questions.

“Merlin, Aya. Are you okay?”

“What happened to you yesterday?”

“Where were you?”

“Why weren’t you on Hogwarts Express?”

“We were so worried.”

“Easy, easy,” she laughed with mirth. “I’m okay. However, we might want to wait for Hermione to join us, because there is a very interesting story behind my absence, and we wouldn’t want her to miss it.”

Hannah and Susan pouted a little but agreed they should reunite with Hermione as well, since she was also worried about Aya.

“Now, where are my presents?”

Her roommates laughed, as they stirred her towards the exit. “You’ll get them after we find Hermione.”

After getting her own copy of the schedule (Hannah and Susan were kind enough to take it for her this morning), they went to look for Hermione at the Gryffindor Tower.

Once all three were reunited and tucked in a solitary corner of the castle, Aya first told them the story about the elf Dobby and the incoming mortal danger threatening Hogwarts.

“Did the elf say what kind of danger it was?” asked Hermione.

“Or who’s behind it?” added Hannah.

“Sorry, I didn’t ask him. I was worried about other things at the time.”

“Like what?” prompted Susan.

“How I wanted to eat my dinner before it got cold,” deadpanned Aya.

All three of them shook their heads. “You’re unbelievable sometimes, you know that?”

“Why thank you for the compliment,” she returned with a wide grin.

“Anyway, we should inform the staff about this,” said Hermione. “Even if we don’t know what exactly we should be looking out for, it’s better to be mindful of one’s surroundings nonetheless.”

Susan and Hannah nodded their agreement.

“Well,” sighed Aya, “I hope this matter gets resolved quickly, because I have no interest in perishing in my pre-teen years.”

All three agreed with her.

Before their conversation could become any more depressing and gloomy, they decided to give Aya their birthday gifts.

Hannah bought her a book about wizarding bonds and rituals related with them and a giant box of chocolate frogs. “Since you still haven’t tried any wizard candy, I thought that chocolate frogs are the best way to start,” explained Hannah.

Susan got her a book titled _Basic Wizarding Law for Every Witch and Wizard_. “I have an aunt working at the Ministry and when I mentioned to her that I was looking for a practical gift, she recommended law, since I told her you don’t know anything about our laws and customs,” explained Susan, a bit embarrassed.

“Well,” began Hermione as she handed her a small handmade cardboard box, “I wanted to get you a book as well, but then I thought making something would be more personal, so I made you a bracelet of friendship.”

Wrapped around an empty toilet paper roll, a beautiful, handmade chevron bracelet made of emerald-green, yellow, red and blue threads of embroidery floss appeared.

“I wasn’t sure how long the bracelet should be, so I used the circumference of an empty toilet paper roll as reference,” explained Hermione. “I hope it fits.”

Aya, Susan and Hannah were impressed.

“Morgana, Hermione,” breathed Hannah. “This is beautiful. Can you make one for us too?”

Hermione beamed. “Of course. It’s really simple to make. I can also do a basic diagonal pattern and a heart one. Just tell me which colours you want and what pattern and I’ll make them for you.”

Aya smiled serenely as she observed the animated interaction between her friends. Maybe returning to Hogwarts despite the danger she might face was worth it, if she got to experience moments like this with her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and/or kudos to tell me what you thought. :) Nothing much happened in this chapter, but I still want to know what you thought about it and was your favourite part(s) of the chapter. 
> 
> And remember, there will be an extra chapter next week on Christmas Day, but let me know if you wish to have a New Years' Eve update as well or not. ;) Let me know in a comment. If there are enough people interested (let's say more than 10 by next Friday) I will post on 31 December as well. :) Otherwise it will be a regular Friday update on 4 January 2019.


	6. Second Year: First Semester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! (Or Happy Holiday season!) 
> 
> As promised, here is the next chapter as a gift to all of you who read and comment and otherwise keep up with the story. :) 
> 
> While I finish the first part of the trilogy, I leave you with this lovely chapter. I hope you enjoy it! :3

After spending the afternoon and evening of her return to Hogwarts in the company of her friends, Aya remembered something crucial. All her summer homework was incomplete since she only got her second-year books that day.

Panicking, she looked at her schedule and started prioritising.

Since she had History of Magic and Charms the next day, she did those first (there was also DADA, but since there would be a new teacher anyway, she didn’t even bother with the subject). Then on Monday, she did Astronomy and Herbology in between breaks and her spare time, and finally, on Tuesday she managed to finish her Transfiguration and Potions homework.

Before she got to Friday, she was already tired of school. At least she would have Double Potions first thing on Friday morning. Having Snape for two consecutive days was reenergising and like a balm for Aya’s soul after the disaster, which was her DADA teacher.

…

The first week of September slowly eased them into the subjects by repeating key points from the year before and slowly adding new material.

Most of the classes turned out fine, except DADA, where the professor seemed to be suffering from a severe case of narcissism and was weirdly obsessed with her. He only ever talked about himself and his achievements. He spoke to her as if she was a celebrity. He called on her for recreations of his greatest feats. He made her feel uncomfortable, and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand how most of her female classmates swooned over him. He wasn’t even that good looking! Damn, even Snape was sexier than Lockhart was and that was saying something.

She was not amused.

Within the first week, she was in Snape’s office making a complaint over the new DADA professor. Just to be on the safe side, she also wrote an official letter to all twelve School Governors, where besides complaining about the professor’s overly familiar treatment of her person, she also suggested that the Board do a surprise inspection of Professor Lockhart’s class because the quality of his teaching was abysmal.

With Susan and Hannah’s help, she reproduced and distributed the letters to their respective addressees through the school owls.

By the end of the second week, Lucius Malfoy, who actually turned out to be the Board Chairman, made a surprise appearance during one of Lockhart’s classes. He stood in the back in complete silence, assessing Lockhart’s performance.

What happened after the bell rang was a mystery to everyone, but what really mattered was that Lockhart was suspended and most likely sacked, because not only was his teaching method poor, but also his books appeared to be plagiarised.

With Lockhart gone, DADA classes were cancelled until further notice, something that worked just fine with Aya … and apparently most of the student body, if expressions of gratitude she received on a daily basis for the next few days were any indication.

…

The bliss of being rid of Lockhart continued until the end of September for Aya, with the peak being Hermione’s birthday on the nineteenth.

While trying to get Hermione a gift, her other two friends introduced her to order mail by owl. Apparently, even in the wizarding world some businesses offered buying from the comfort of your home … or in Aya’s case from the comfort of her dorm.

She browsed through various catalogues for bookshops, clothes shops and jewellery shops, but struggled deciding what to get. She could get her a book, since Hermione was a bookworm like her, but with books, one always ran the risk of buying something the other party might have already read or you could get them something they don’t find appealing. The problem with gifting clothes was first of all the size and what one saw in the pictures might look completely differently in person. Jewellery could be nice, cute, and fancy, but also expensive.

She couldn’t possibly copy Hermione’s gift to her and make a friendship bracelet. She probably already had plenty of handmade bracelets with different colours and patterns. However, even if a bracelet was out of the question, she still wanted to give Hermione something handmade.

She got her idea in her second flip through of one of the bookshop catalogues, when she spied an origami book set with origami paper included. She could also use some of the ideas for Susan’s birthday in April (April 20th) and Hannah’s birthday in June (June 21th). She immediately ordered it.

The order came quickly, but now the problem was deciding what to make for Hermione. She could make an origami flower or an animal. She could make more than one, maybe she could gift her a mini origami flower garden or an origami zoo or differently coloured mini stars. Oh, the choices.

In the end, she decided to give her a handful of tiny paper stars in Hogwarts colours, a golden origami lion and a black-and-white badger, and since they probably couldn’t eat real pastries in school, she also made her an origami version of a cake slice topped with a paper candle and a cupcake with a smiling face.

Hannah bought Hermione a packet of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and a good luck charm for school, as well as a protection charm for all of them, because according to her, “We’re going to need all the protection we can get this year.” While Susan got Hermione a necklace and a mug with her astrological sign (Virgo).

The gesture and gifts brought tears to Hermione’s eyes. It was the first time she had friends to celebrate her birthday. Aya, Susan, and Hannah hugged the living shit out of her.

…

When October began, another annoying bug appeared. This time, it looked like a first year Gryffindor boy named Colin Creevey, who apparently hadn’t been informed of how he should behave towards Aya.

He seemed to appear out of nowhere and when Aya least expected him. He behaved like an obnoxious fan boy, always taking pictures of her with that stupid camera of his and who, even after being told explicitly by her to leave her be, persisted in asking for autographs.

Furious like a harpy, she went to Professor Snape.

“What ails you this time, Miss Potter?” asked Snape sarcastically.

“I need you to deduct points from a Gryffindor first year going by the name of Colin Creevey.” There was a dark glint in her eyes.

“I will gladly deduct points from him but, pray tell, why?”

“He’s been following me around with a camera like a rabid paparazzi, taking unauthorised pictures of my person,” she hissed through her teeth, “and asking for an autograph at every turn. I’ve told him explicitly to cease invading my privacy and personal space and he doesn’t seem to grasp the words.”

“Okay,” conceded Snape slightly wary of her, “I’ll see that he is suitably punished for his transgression, Miss Potter.”

“See that you do. Because at this point, I not only want you to deduct points from him and give him detention, but also confiscate that bloody camera of his till the rest of the school year,” spat Aya viciously, “because if I see him with it or using it in my vicinity, I’m taking that bloody camera and throwing it against a wall.”

Some bottles rattled slightly in Snape’s office.

“I’ll see to it,” assured her Snape, but Aya was still seething.

“Good,” she breathed, slightly out of breath. “Also,” she added, “I demand he destroy every single photo he’s taken of me, because one never knows for what nefarious purpose he or anyone who gets their hands on them might use them.”

“Miss Potter, now you’re just being ridiculous,” huffed Snape incredulously. “What nefarious things could a first year possibly do with your photos?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I don’t know, Professor,” she snapped venomously, “all sorts of nasty things come to mind actually. Let’s not forget that I need to watch out for anything that might end up being dangerous for me. Mortal danger at Hogwarts and all that shit,” reminded him Aya.

“Look, I don’t know how things work in the wizarding world, but he could easily sell my photos to whoever is willing to pay enough money … the press, rabid fans, people with a grudge, paedophiles, you name it,” she enumerated. “And let me tell you, I don’t want my photos to be used in any kind of _voodoo hoodoo_ ritual or end up as masturbating material to perverts. Because believe me, Professor, when I tell you that perverts don’t need revealing photos to get excited. They have their imagination to provide what’s underneath the clothing.”

An uncomfortable chill ran through Snape as he gazed into Aya’s penetrating and disturbingly green-glowing eyes, and after that kind of explanation, who was he to object or say no to her demands.

…

The speed and efficiency with which Snape worked were truly praiseworthy. In a single day, Gryffindor had lost 250 points and Colin Creevey had his camera confiscated for three weeks.

When Professor McGonagall and the rest of the Gryffindors demanded to know the reason behind such an absurd punishment, Professor Snape simply informed them it was on the grounds of violating another student’s privacy and personal space by displaying stalking tendencies, taking unauthorised photos, and ignoring said student’s numerous demands to stop.

No one had anything to say to that. And to put a cherry on top, Professor Snape personally went through Colin Creevey’s belongings to find and destroy every photo with Aya in it.

She was so happy and proud of her professor. It was because of things like that that he was her absolute favourite teacher and person. She promised herself she would give him something special for Christmas and his birthday, because he really deserved it. Oh, and she would go to his office to thank him. Maybe a hug and a kiss on the cheek?

…

After thanking Snape for his quick and amazingly executed intervention, Aya felt so giddy she was skipping around the corridors. That’s how she ran into Nearly Headless Nick who, unlike her, looked depressed.

When she questioned him about his mood, he explained that his death day was approaching. Apparently, it was a constant reminder of not being beheaded properly; therefore, he could never join the Headless Hunt. When asked what was so good and special about the Headless Hunt, the ghost looked insulted for some reason.

“As if a mere mortal such as yourself could understand the greatness of the Headless Hunt,” huffed the ghost. “However, you could join the celebration and ask the members of the Headless Hunt yourself,” suggested Nick.

Intrigued, Aya agreed to come to his Deathday party on All Hallows Eve.

“Great,” exclaimed the ghost excited, “most of the castle ghosts will be in attendance and some special guests as well.”

“Sounds amazing,” smiled Aya, “I’m looking forward to it.” She was about to bid him a good day, when she remembered, “Say if it’s a party, will there be food and drinks?”

“Why of course, Miss Potter,” he huffed, then a grimace of reluctance passed his ghostly face, “however, I am afraid it is not exactly meant for mortal consumption.”

“Not to worry,” she assured him, “I’ll bring my own snacks and drinks.” She needed one more information before leaving. “And when and where exactly is the celebration going to take place?”

“It will start at six o’clock in the evening in the dungeons.”

Nodding and smiling, she waved him goodbye, and returned to her dorm.

…

In her excitement over attending a Deathday party, Aya wanted to share that experience with her friends. However, despite being intrigued, all three of them refused, saying they didn’t feel comfortable around ghosts.

Resigned to go alone, she spent the remaining two weeks until Hallowe’en thinking about going in a costume. She was debating between going dressed as a skeleton, a mummy and a decaying corpse. In the end, she chose the first option and ordered some black and white body paint and a skeleton costume through the owl post.

On the day of the party, she covered her face and neck with paint and put on the skeleton jumpsuit, then covered up any visible patches of skin with either black or white.

Satisfied with her looks, she put a sandwich, a box of biscuits and nuts as well as two water bottles in a small bag, then, covering herself completely in her special blanket, made her way through the dungeon.

…

The party was a dark, macabre and gloomy affair, but Aya enjoyed it. Sir Nicholas didn’t even recognise her at first, but it was obvious she chose well for she ended up fitting rather nicely into the whole thing.

She met many ghosts, but somehow ended up connecting with the members of the Headless Hunt and the Bloody Baron the most, especially after learning about his tragic and sad backstory.

As entertainment, some ghosts re-enacted their gruesome deaths, while others acted as comedians and made macabre jokes about death and dying, and she greatly enjoyed them all and even laughed aloud.

The Headless Hunt was cordial enough to perform some of the activities they were known for and she even ended up suggesting a few herself. Not one to waste good music, she also ended up dancing with a few ghosts both male and female.

Feeling in the mood, she even performed a song herself. She sang _Remains of the Day_ from Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride movie, which fitted the occasion like a glove. Incidentally, she found herself in an animated discussion about the mummification process in Ancient Egypt, the gruesome human sacrifices in Aztec, Maya and Inca traditions, and different torture techniques of both physical and psychological nature. Following the latter, a debate over which forms of torture were more effective broke out.

A good two hours into the celebration, she thought she heard a strange, bodiless voice saying, _“… rip … tear … kill …_ ”

With the bottle pressed to her lips, she looked around. “Did you say anything just now?” she asked the ghost next to her.

He looked surprised. “No, I didn’t say anything.”

_“… so long … so hungry …”_

Whoever that was, someone should tell them to come to the dungeon, because there was a lot of ghostly food, just waiting to be eaten.

“ _… kill … time to kill … blood … I smell blood …”_

‘Oh, great,’ she thought sardonically. ‘Two months of complete silence and the culprit responsible for mortal danger decides to strike tonight.’ Or she was just suffering from auditory hallucinations. That could also be a possibility.

Saying her goodbye, she excused herself from the party, threw her special blanket over herself and went towards her dorm.

…

When she arrived at the common room and there was no one inside, she thought it was strange, because the feast should have already ended by now. Against her better judgement, she decided to investigate a bit, so she went to the Great Hall, but found it empty.

“Where is everybody?” she wondered aloud. “They couldn’t have vanished into thin air.” She gasped dramatically. “What if they had been spirited away, like that Ghibli film?”

She started making her way up the staircase and as she neared the second floor, she heard gasps and commotion. She approached the scene and saw students and professors gathered around a wall.

Taking off her blanket and stuffing it inside her bag, she walked up to the group to see what the commotion was all about.

When the first person saw her, they let out a loud, terrified shriek that scared the living shit out of her. Everybody turned to her and had a pretty much the same reaction. Just as she was about to ask them what was wrong with them, she remembered she still looked like a skeleton.

Instead, she ignored them and went up to Professor Snape. “What happened, Professor?”

He looked confused, but soon recognition sparked in his eyes as he answered in his signature drawl, “Someone attacked Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris, and left a message behind.”

She looked at the spot where the others were looking and saw the poor cat hanging off the torch handle, looking dead, and above her a message written in blood ‘ _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._ ’

“Oh no,” she sighed, saddened. “Poor Mrs. Norris.” She turned to Snape. “Is she dead?”

“Not dead,” answered Dumbledore. “She’s still alive, but she’s been petrified.”

She looked surprised at the staff. “And no one can _un_ -petrify her?”

“I’m afraid not,” replied the headmaster saddened. “Only the mandrake extract can, but the mandrakes are not mature for the potion yet.”

She approached Mr. Filch and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mr. Filch,” she tried to be encouraging. “Mrs. Norris is a strong cat. She’ll pull through.”

Professor McGonagall recovered enough to ask her, wide-eyed, “Miss Potter … is that you?”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” she answered light-heartedly, “it is I.”

“What are you doing dressed up like … _this_?” she gestured at her, because more eloquent words escaped her.

She looked down at her costume and back up. “Well, today is Hallowe’en, isn’t it? And muggle tradition dictates a scary costume, so I decided to dress up for the occasion,” she explained, simply. “I was debating between dressing up as a skeleton, a mummy or a decaying corpse, and, as you can see, I ended up choosing the first option.”

Dumbledore clapped a few times to get their attention and said. “As fascinating and terrifying as this situation is for all of you, I believe it is time for the prefects to take the students to their dorms.”

Shuffling of feet and murmurs followed these words, and just as Aya was about to join her friends and follow their prefects back to the dungeons, Dumbledore called for her.

“Miss Potter,” he said in a gentle tone, “if you would be so kind as to remain behind, I’m sure your Head of House or Professor Snape can escort you back.”

She looked at her friends, who all looked concerned for her, and signalled them to go. When they left, she turned her attention to the staff.

“Miss Potter,” Dumbledore began softly, “I do not mean to accuse you of anything, but I couldn’t help but notice your absence from the Hallowe’en Feast.”

Aya raised her eyebrows in bafflement. “Are you implying that I’m the culprit behind poor Mrs. Norris’ petrification and the message?” Unbelievable.

“I believe in your innocence,” the headmaster quickly assured her, “but many will not.”

“For your information I was at a party,” she informed him, more than a little annoyed, and she let it be known in the tone of her voice. “You can ask Sir Nicholas and almost all the ghosts in the castle. The resident ghost of Gryffindor was celebrating his Deathday party. He was kind enough to invite me and I accepted the invitation. I was just returning from the party when I noticed the castle seemed deserted. I decided to explore, to see if I found you all.”

“I see.” Dumbledore’s expression turned pensive. “And you didn’t see nor hear anyone or anything on your way here?”

“No, I didn’t,” she assured him. As if she would tell him about the voice she heard in the dungeons.

He didn’t seem satisfied with her answer, but damn if she gave a flying fuck about it. At least he didn’t press her for any further information.

With the staff also retiring to their rooms, Aya stayed behind with Professor Snape.

They walked beside one another in silence. When they arrived at their separation point, Aya finally ventured to ask him. “So …” she started, smugly. “How do I look?”

“Absolutely dreadful,” drawled Snape, unimpressed. “You could use some sun since you’re _as pale as a skeleton_.”

Aya grinned, but because of the make-up, it looked scarier than intended.

Snape turned, ready to enter his room, when he added over his shoulder, “And maybe you should consider putting on some meat, because right now you are nothing but _bones and cartilage_.”

She burst out laughing and clapping. “Yo … that was a good one, Professor,” she said, still smiling from ear to ear. “I’m already looking forward to your puns about mummies or decaying corpses next year.”

“I’m glad you enjoy my … dark and morbid sense of humour, Miss Potter,” he drawled. “Good night, Miss Potter,” he added in a softer tone, and a tiny trace of warmth shone from his eyes.

She beamed at him and wished him a good night in return.

…

In the first few days following the attack on Mrs. Norris, the students were vigorously whispering among each other, speculating who (or what) could have attack the cat, or what the writing on the wall meant. But before the week was out, the enthusiastic buzz had died down, since nothing out of the ordinary happened again, and Aya hadn’t heard that creepy ass voice talking about being hungry and wanting to kill either.

However, mid-November, she heard the same raspy voice again and incidentally, the next day, the school was informed of another attack. This time a student was petrified. It was Colin Creevey.

Now, even though Aya felt bad for the poor kid, because nobody deserved to be petrified, she couldn’t deny she felt relief and some amount of giddiness of being freed from the little menace for the rest of the school year. However, with his attack, some of the students started sending accusatory and wary looks her way, as if she was the one behind his attack.

The entire school knew how she dealt with Colin Creevey in the past, and since the attack happened not long after he got his camera back, some believed she was responsible.

Moments like this reminded Aya of just how stupid some of the wizarding community could be. How in the world could she have petrified Colin, when she was barely capable of successfully casting the spells and only the spells she had learned in her first year? It’s not as if she was the mythical Medusa that could turn people to stone with her eyes!

Luckily, none of her friends believed the rumours about her.

…

In the end, Aya concluded that rumours of her possible guilt benefitted her in that most of the students stayed away from her and didn’t pester her. Maybe there was some truth behind ‘There’s always a silver lining’.

When an entire month passed with no attacks, the rumours surrounding Aya died down a bit. But two weeks before the Christmas break, Aya heard the voice again, and a fellow housemate, Justin Fitch-Fletchley, and Nearly Headless Nick were attacked.

How a ghost could have been affected when it was already dead was beyond Aya, but the culprit must be one hell of a powerhouse if they could attack ghosts as well.

With this third attack, the entire school was in disarray. Students were frantically writing letters to their parents, begging the Board to intervene. A trade in amulets and talismans blossomed all over the school. Poor fools, as if any piece of jewellery could protect them, if not even the ghosts were safe!

Aya was ready to up and leave Hogwarts for good at any given moment at this point. People and ghosts were getting petrified, students were terrified, and the school staff seemed completely helpless and clueless about the situation. Hell, at this rate, it was more likely the school to be closed altogether, until the matter was resolved.

Never before had she wished for Christmas to come sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? What part(s) did you like the most? Did I make you laugh? Leave your gifts (aka comments and kudos). :3
> 
> Next chapter: Aya and Tom (the diary) will meet and have their first interaction. Poor Tom is not prepared for Aya and her personality. xD 
> 
> Before I go, remember to comment if you want an extra chapter update on 31 December. Three people have already left their comments (thank you so much!), a few more (different people of course) until Friday, where I will be informing you if there will be another extra chapter this year or not. ;)


	7. Second Year – Second Semester: Tom Marvolo Riddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments in the previous chapter. I think six comments is the most I've ever received on a chapter, because it would appear that this fic doesn't really attract many commentators. I squeal and dance in my room every time someone leaves a comment, kudos and bookmarks, or if they subscribe to the work to keep up-to-date with every new chapter. I did miss a commentator in my last chapter (Bee, I'm looking at you, I hope you will let me know what you thought of the interaction between Aya and Tom in this chapter :3)
> 
> Because of the support you've shown me, I will post chapter 8 on 31 December, before returning back to my Friday, once-per-week update schedule. I still look forward to receiving your comments even if it is only to write two words or an emoji. More substantial ones make my heart flutter, but every comment warms my heart. :)
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy the finale of Aya's second year at Hogwarts! :)

Because of the last attack, Christmas break came sooner than scheduled and the students were given three full weeks of holidays.

When the time to return for the second half of the year came around, Aya wasn’t looking forward to another semester filled with petrified students. She could only hope they took advantage of the Christmas break to investigate and resolve the matter, but somehow she had a feeling that wasn’t the case. If Voldemort managed to spend an entire school year right under Dumbledore’s nose, it certainly wouldn’t be a stretch to say that whoever the culprit was this time, they could potentially get away with the crimes they’ve committed so far.

As expected, the headmaster informed them that, sadly, they have not been able to find the culprit responsible for the attacks, despite their best efforts. In turn, he was pleased to inform them about the new DADA professor and DADA classes returning for all years.

Apparently, the Board had finally appointed a replacement for Lockhart, one Remus Lupin. That meant that DADA classes were back in session and since they had skipped on the entire first half of the lessons, the higher-ups have decided to add supplementary lessons of DADA until the rest of the year if they wanted to catch up with the subject curriculum.

…

The beginning of January also reminded Aya of Snape’s birthday and that she still owed him both a Birthday and Christmas presents for his amazing performance. But what does one get for a Potions Professor? Potions supplies? Potions equipment? He probably already had both, but still.

She ended ordering a set of empty vials and bottles. Once they arrived, she did a bunch of tiny silver and emerald-green origami stars and placed them in the bottles to make it look like candy. For the final touch, she made a green origami snake and a yellow badger with their names written on it.

She went to Snape’s office after class on the ninth. She yelled, “Happy Birthday, Professor Snape!” enthusiastically, as soon as she burst through the door.

Snape was speechless and stunned for a few seconds, but then quickly recovered. “There is no need for yelling, Miss Potter,” he said, “I can still hear perfectly well … but I appreciate it,” he added softly.

She smiled. “Here,” she walked up to his desk and presented his gift. “Your Christmas and Birthday presents in one.”

“You shouldn’t have bothered, Miss Potter,” said Snape, but accepted the present nonetheless. “You gave me your gift, you can go now,” he commented, when she didn’t move to leave.

“Open it,” encouraged him Aya, excited. “I want to know what you think.”

Sighing dramatically, Snape unwrapped his gift and was pleasantly surprised. He first unboxed the vials and bottles filled with stars.

“I wanted to give you something a Potions Professor would need, so I ordered you a set of vials and bottles,” she commented, excitedly.

“And the stars?” he asked, amused. “I doubt the stars came included.”

“Until you fill the bottles with smelly and nasty tasting potions, I wanted to make it look like a candy jar, so I made a bunch of stars in Slytherin colours, because you know, you’re the Head of Slytherin, and it fits,” she explained, smiling. “Besides you can see each star as a small thank you for all the times you’ve helped me.”

He looked at the quantity of stars and a small, amused grin tugged his lips. “I sure have been helping you a lot this past year and a half if there are enough stars to fill five entire bottles,” he commented, chuckling lowly.

“There’s more,” encouraged Aya.

He set down the bottle he was holding and held up a paper snake and a paper badger. The first had his name on it and the latter bore Aya’s name. “And this?” he questioned.

“The snake, which is the symbol of Slytherin, is you and the badger, the symbol of Hufflepuff, is me. Together they form a wonderful friendship.”

Snape didn’t expect any of it, but he looked pleased and even happy about it. He smiled softly as he thanked her.

Aya returned his smile with a soft “You’re welcome, Professor.”

…

January passed without incidents. Professor Lupin seemed to be a competent teacher who treated his students with kindness and equality, which was something Aya really liked about him. His face was marred with scars, but he was mild-mannered, and he seemed to be well liked by students and teachers alike. Only Professor Snape seemed uncomfortable and downright displeased by his presence.

Curious as to why that was the case, she asked Snape about it.

“Professor,” she began, “why do you dislike Professor Lupin?”

Snape stiffened at Lupin’s name. “I don’t have to tell you a thing, Miss Potter,” he snapped at her. “It is none of your business.”

Not one to get discouraged by Snape’s curt and biting remarks, she persevered in her investigation. “I know,” she conceded, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop pestering you until you tell me.”

His eyes narrowed as he glared at her, but she was unfazed. After a staring contest and a lot of pleading later, Snape succumbed to her insistence.

“Fine, you little menace,” said Snape with a defeated sigh. “Lupin and I went to school together. I was in Slytherin and he was in Gryffindor, as well as his friends James Potter, your father, Peter Pettigrew … and _Sirius Black_ ,” he spat Sirius’ name as if it was venom.

Whoever Sirius Black was, he did something to Snape. Something bad.

“They called themselves Marauders and spent their school lives pranking and bullying students, usually Slytherins,” continued Snape. “Because I was a Slytherin, I automatically became their target. Their favourite target in fact.”

Aya was completely quiet, and there was a feeling of dread rising in her chest and stomach. She didn’t like where this was going.

“At some point I started defending myself and even fought back. In my sixth year, I started suspecting that Lupin was not entirely human. Black took that opportunity…” he struggled to find the words, “to set me up and Lupin attacked me.”

Aya gaped. “Professor Lupin attacked you?” she exclaimed, outraged.

“He wasn’t human at the time, but I cannot tell you what he is because of the vow I was forced to take after the incident.”

Professor Lupin was not entirely human. Unbelievable.

“Can you maybe give me a hint?” pressed Aya. She was determined to know what exactly Lupin was.

“His condition only worsens around full moon.”

‘A creature that relies on the full moon,’ she thought to herself. ‘You should know this, Aya. You’ve read so many fantasy books and watched so many fantasy movies. This should be easy.’

She frowned in thought.

“Wait,” she breathed, coming to the realisation, “Professor Lupin is a werewolf.”

Snape nodded.

“There’s a werewolf in the school,” she whispered, looking dazed. “Does anybody else know about this?”

“Only Dumbledore and Black, but he’s in Azkaban,” answered Snape. A confused frown appeared on Aya’s face. “Azkaban is a prison for witches and wizards.”

Aya nodded in understanding.

“Miss Potter,” he continued, “now that you know this. What are you going to do with this information?”

She looked stumped. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “On one hand, I want to expose him, because he could attack the students at any time, but on the other hand, I don’t see the need to do it, since there hasn’t been an incident yet.”

“Ah, yes,” said Snape morbidly amused, “herein lies the moral dilemma, Miss Potter. Is the livelihood of Lupin more important than the livelihood of hundreds of students? Should we risk potential attacks until finally exposing the threat or do we remove the threat before it has the opportunity to do any harm?”

“Ooph, Professor,” heaved Aya, “you’re asking me a very difficult question.”

“True, Miss Potter,” agreed Snape, “although I would use this as justification to simply get back at Lupin for nearly killing me or turning me into what he is as well.”

When she said nothing to that, a self-deprecating smile appeared on his lips. “Do you think I’m being petty for trying and wanting to ruin Lupin’s life, Miss Potter?”

“No,” she said without hesitation. “I would probably want to see the person who attacked me ruined and completely and utterly destroyed,” she narrowed her eyes in determination.

Suddenly, he began laughing, taking Aya completely by surprise. It was deep, rich and velvety. ‘He should laugh more,’ was all she could think.

He looked at her as if she was a wonder.

“You know, Miss Potter,” he began, after recollecting himself, “I’m going to be honest with you, because you deserve it.”

Oh, oh. This didn’t sound good.

“Before I met you, I was determined to hate you … After all; you were the spawn of James Potter, my chief tormentor during my school days. I expected you to be the same as him. That I’ll look at you and see him in you … but you couldn’t have been more different from him. You’re nothing like him and I’m glad you are who you are, Aya Potter. Don’t ever change.”

When Snape stopped talking, Aya’s eyes were filled with unshed tears. She tackled him in a ferocious hug and buried her face in his robes.  

“You too, Professor,” she sniffed. Reluctantly, he circled his arms around her shoulders and squeezed back.

“I hope my father is rotting in hell for what he did to you,” she said completely serious. “I don’t care if he’s hailed as a hero for fighting Voldemort, nothing will erase the horrible things he’s done to you and many others, simply for being Slytherins.”

She looked up. “Maybe next time I should thank Voldemort for killing him,” she thought aloud.

At the mention of the Dark Lord’s name, Snape stiffened, but nonetheless, he said pensively, “Yes, maybe you should.”

…

After that conversation, Aya and Snape agreed to let Lupin be for the time being. Snape would continue to make his Wolfsbane Potion, and Aya would keep an eye on him during class. At the first sign of danger, they will act immediately.

With Valentine’s Day around the corner, the school was covered in pink and red hearts. Boys and girls were a mess, panicking over their crushes and about how to confess their feelings. Girls even went a step further. Some of the older female students talked about love potions and putting them in sweets … and that didn’t sit well with Aya.

She couldn’t understand why some people wanted to force these things. Why couldn’t they accept that someone they fancied might not fancy them back? Why couldn’t they let it happen naturally? Why did they have to force a date rape drug down their crushes throats disguised as candy? And the worst part of it all was that that kind of violation of human free will was not punishable by law. It wasn’t even considered a criminal offence that could lend you in Azkaban!

Simply put, Aya was disgusted.

At least her friends seemed to be immune to that kind of stupidity … for now.

…

During one of Aya’s bathroom trips, she stumbled upon flooded bathroom floor. She grimaced. “Now my shoes are going to be wet,” she complained.

Carefully she walked towards the cubicles. “What happened here?” she wondered.

After doing her toilet business, she decided to have a look around and in one of the cubicles; she encountered a black leather-bound book floating in the toilet.

She took a paper towel and carefully, but quickly, extracted the book from it and held it between her thumb and forefinger at arm’s length.

“Yuck,” was all she could say, when holding something that smelt like toilet water.

How someone could have lost a book this big in a toilet was beyond her, but hey, Dudley dropped a mobile phone into the toilet by accident during one of the school breaks, so she could see something like a book falling out of the robe pocket when trying to manoeuvre that shit happening.

Although she was tempted to rinse it with soap, she didn’t want to damage the book beyond repair, so she simply dried it off and wrapped it in at least a dozen paper towels before putting it in her school bag.

Returning to her dorm, she decided to inspect her find to see to whom it belonged. With gloved hands and sheets of old Daily Prophets covering her bed, because she would be damned if she let a toilet smelling book spread it’s vicious smell on her bed and hands, she found a golden tag with _T. M. Riddle_ engraved in it.

‘Was there a student with those initials and surname?’

She wasn’t particularly knowledgeable on that front … and let’s be honest, why should she know every single person in the school? It’s not like she interacted with ninety percent of the school populace, so she was fine with knowing only a handful of names.

Flipping through it, she noticed it was empty.

‘Well,’ she thought, ‘whoever this Riddle person is, they sure didn’t write in the notebook.’ An idea crossed her mind. ‘Maybe they used invisible ink.’

She looked for a candle, lighted it and passed some of the pages over the flame to see if there would be any writing.

‘Pft, nothing,’ she sighed, feeling disappointed.

Well, maybe since this was a magical notebook, it could be enchanted to appear empty … Or it was just empty and there was nothing special about it.

Or … it was a talking book. Some novels used that trope in their stories.

After debating whether to write in the book or not, she decided to try.

“Hello,” she started, “is anyone in there?”

The words she wrote disappeared before her eyes. “Well,” she said, begrudgingly, “that explains why there is not a single page with any ink on it.”

A response in elegant cursive writing appeared on the same page. ‘ _Hello_ ,’ it read.

“Wonderful,” she wrote back. “Listen, I don’t know who you are or who you belong to but I need you to answer me something VERY IMPORTANT.”

She could feel caution and hesitation on the other end. ‘ _If it is within my knowledge, I will answer whatever question you need_.’

“Would you mind if I washed this notebook with soap and water?”

‘ _No_ ,’ it answered, ‘ _but I do not understand why you would want to do such a thing in the first place_.’

“Because somehow you, as in this book, have ended in a toilet in one of the girls’ bathrooms. Yuck, I tell you. Now I’m afraid that if I let you lie around my belongings you’ll end up spreading the stench of toilet all over them, and I cannot allow that to happen. I hope you understand.”

‘ _Perfectly. But I am surprised that you found me in a toilet_.’

“Oh, believe me, I was surprised as well. I mean you aren’t exactly small, but with how big the school robes’ pockets are you would fit inside one. So I thought that, if my clumsy cousin can lose a mobile phone in a toilet, someone else can be just as clumsy to lose a book in it too. Anyway, I wanted to wash it immediately, but I didn’t want to damage it beyond repair, so I just dried you off and brought you back with me to my dorm. Now I’m handling you with gloves and old newspaper.”

There was a pause, before the entity in the book wrote again. ‘ _Well … to answer your original question, yes, you can wash this book with soap and water. The pages won’t be damaged in any way_.’

“Good.”

 _‘May I ask to whom I have the pleasure of speaking?_ ’

She thought for a bit. Was it a good idea to tell the book her real name? Probably not, but hey … what did she have to lose?

“Aya Potter.”

‘ _Nice to meet you, Aya. My name is Tom Riddle_.’

“Oh, so you’re the owner of this book then?”

‘ _Indeed I am_.’

“Wait a minute … If you’re the owner … and you’re a male … what the hell were you doing in a girls’ bathroom? I mean I know it can get crowded on toilets during breaks but for one to be so desperate to go to the opposite gender’s bathroom to get to the toilet is a new concept to me. Did you get lost or something?”

‘ _Nothing of the sort. Allow me to explain the confusion. It is true that I am the original owner of this journal, however, before you found me, I belonged to someone else and the one who was in possession of my journal was a girl._ ’

“Oh, that makes sense. Can you tell me which girl? So that I can return you to her as soon as I freshen you up with some soap.”

‘ _That won’t be necessary_.’

“What won’t be necessary, to freshen you up or to return you to the girl?”

‘ _The latter. I am afraid the girl didn’t lose me as you speculated earlier, but rather … she was trying to get rid of me_.’

“And why is that? Did you say something to upset her? I wouldn’t put it past some of the girls in this school.”

‘ _… I might have … said something to upset her, I mean_.’

“Ohoho. Care to share? I’m always happy to read about people getting upset.”

‘ _As much as I would love to share, I have sworn secrecy over the matter as well as the identity of the girl_.’

She lamented herself. ‘And there goes my source of entertainment,’ she thought, dejectedly. ‘Oh, well.’

‘ _What about you, Aya? Would you mind sharing a bit about yourself with me?_ ’

“Sure, I don’t mind. What would you like to know?”

‘ _Well, for starters, what House are you in?_ ’

“Is that important?”

‘ _I don’t think so, but for every Hogwarts student the House they’re sorted in plays a great and important role in their lives._ ’

“Well, I don’t really care about that shit, but if you must know, I’m in Hufflepuff. You?”

‘ _I was in Slytherin. Is there any particular reason, why you don’t … give a shit?_ ’

“Not really, I just think it’s a stupid system that only breeds animosity between the students. Apparently, Hufflepuffs are lame, Slytherins are evil, and Ravenclaws and Gryffindors are the school jocks.”

‘ _How old are you?_ ’

“Twelve. This is my second year and it just might also be my last.”

‘ _Why is that?_ ’

“You don’t know what’s going on at Hogwarts?”

‘ _Oh, are you referring to the mysterious attacks?_ ’

“Yes. No one knows who or what is behind the attacks, and every time an attack happened I heard a voice no one else had heard.”

‘ _A voice?_ ’

“Yeah. A bodiless voice that talks about blood, killing … and being hungry. At first, I thought I was tired and hearing things, then when it happened the second time and the third time … let’s just say I thought my auditory hallucinations had something to do with the culprit … But it’s not just this year that has me eager to leave this place. The shit has been piling up even before I came here.”

‘ _How so?_ ’

“That, my dear Tom, is a long story. Look, not to be rude or anything, but my hand feels like it’s about to fall off and I still have homework to do. If there were a way for me to talk to you personally, that would be extremely helpful, because it really would be much easier to _tell_ you than to _write_ you about it. Besides, there’s also the bonus of getting to hear my charming voice and seeing me gesticulate like a monkey. So, goodbye until then, and now I’ll go wash you, because you really stink and it’s making me nauseous and dizzy. I’ll probably have to air the room as well.”

With that, she sighed, stretched and closed the journal and went to the dorm lavatory, where she scrubbed the living shit out of the covers and pages. When she was sure there was not a trace of toilet smell on them, she dried it off, and put it away, until she was getting ready for bed.

…

It would seem that womanhood had finally decided to pay a visit to Aya … right in the middle of her shower. In other words, she finally got her period. After an eternity wondering when she will also start menstruating, she was not happy to look down her legs and see a bloody trail going down her inner thighs. She thought she was injured and was now bleeding out!

Luckily, her friends had some hygienic pads to spare, so she could sleep without bloodying her panties and bed sheets.

However, just as she was finishing her homework and getting ready for bed, she started to experience a blunt, persisting and uncomfortable pressure in her lower abdomen and back. Susan and Hannah advised her to drink some special tea witches usually drank during the first two days of the period and to press a hot water bottle against the lower abdomen. Aya figured that since they and Hermione already had periods, they knew what they were talking.

So, just before curfew, she went to Professor Snape (because hell, if she was walking all the way up to the infirmary to get to Madam Pomfrey) to get some of that special tea or any other type of shit that would ease the pressure she was experiencing. Because now not only her lower abdomen and back hurt, her bones did as well and instead of feeling like herself, she felt like an eighty-year-old grandma with rheumatism.

Thankfully, Professor Snape had what she needed, but as he told her, it would take a few hours before she would notice any difference. She didn’t care, as long as she woke up feeling like she had before the period.

She returned to the dorm and returned to bed with a hot water bottle pressed to her pelvis and decided to write a few quick lines to Tom and excuse herself.

“Hey, Tom.”

‘ _Welcome back, Aya_.’

“Listen, Tom, while I was showering, I finally got my first period and now I feel like shit. I did drink some special tea and I’m pressing a hot water bottle against my pelvis, but it will take a while to take effect so, I don’t think I can talk to you tonight. I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow?”

‘ _I understand. However, I know a method for us to meet and talk without you being affected by what ails your body_.’

“Really? Tom, you’re a saviour. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Anything if it means escaping this feeling of dull and persistent uncomfortableness.”

‘ _Just lie down; press me against your chest with pages spread and relax … I’ll do the rest._ ’

That didn’t sound complicated.

She wished her friends good night, then snuggled under the blanket and did as Tom had instructed her.

…

As she drifted off to sleep, she found herself in a small and austere room with a desk, a couple of bookshelves, a bed, a closet, and most importantly, a person sitting on a chair behind the desk.

“Tom?” she inquired carefully, as she was facing a teenage boy in Slytherin robes, with short but slightly wavy dark hair and dark eyes.

“Welcome, Aya,” he greeted her with a smile and a velvety voice, “to my humble personal space inside the journal.” He spread his arms to encompass the room.

She looked around one more time and noticed that everything was in sepia undertones … even Tom.

“What can I say?” she stated rhetorically. “It’s a nice place. Small but cosy.” She looked at him. “And you look good as well.”

He chuckled lowly at the praise. “I’m glad you like it.”

A beat of silence passed between them.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

For the first time since she appeared in Tom’s room, she looked at herself and examined her appearance and how she felt.

“Well,” she began matter-of-factly, “this sepia tone makes me look like I’ve been sifted through a photoshop filter, but otherwise I feel like myself again not like an eighty-year-old grandma with rheumatism.”

Tom laughed amused. “That’s an oddly specific simile, but I’m glad I could make you feel great again.” He gestured towards the bed. “Please, sit.”

She looked cautiously at the bed. “Can I actually do that?” she questioned him. “I mean, I won’t fall through it?”

Another chuckle came from him. “You can touch everything inside the journal … even me should you feel like it.”

An awed expression settled on her face. “Awesome,” she breathed amazed and sat on the bed, then bounced in place a few times to see how springy and soft it was. She was tempted to jump on it, but refrained herself this time. Surely, there were going to be more meetings like this between Tom and her, if all she had to do was sleep with the journal open and close to her chest.

He gently cleared his throat.

“So …” he began tentatively. She looked at him. “Now that we’ve met in person, I am dying to hear what you have to say about your … disastrous Hogwarts experience so far.”

“Ah, yes,” she said, excitedly. “I did promise to tell you, didn’t I? Well then, my dear Tom, make yourself comfortable because _this_ ...” she emphasized dramatically, “is going to be a long one.” She paused and made an unsure grimace. “Are you sure you don’t mind me talking all night?”

“Oh, no,” he hurried to reassure her, “not at all.”

“Good.” She bobbed her head once for good measure. “Okay …” she sighed. “Where to begin? … I suppose the beginning would make the most sense, but do I really want to bore you with insipid and uninteresting details of my life at the Dursleys?” wondered Aya aloud.

“The Dursleys?” interjected Tom, confused.

“My muggle relatives,” she clarified. She hummed with a scrunched up face, deep in thought, until her face lit up. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “I know. We’ll begin with how Aya Potter has talked her way out of certain death at the end of her first year, or how I somehow managed to convince Voldemort to let me live.”

That intrigued Tom and a hungry gleam crossed his eyes. “Voldemort?”

“Apparently, he is a very infamous Dark Lord,” elaborated Aya, “also referred to as You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by the general populace. I say apparently because I never knew him personally before the end of my first year and all I’ve ever heard about him is from other people, so I can’t really say much about what he’s done and if he’s as bad as people portray him to be.”

She took a big breath, before continuing.

“Anyway, Voldemort and I have a history. A brief one, but history nonetheless. You see, when I was just a baby, for some reason he decided to come to our house, kill my parents and then kill me as well. However, something somehow went wrong and the magic he used didn’t work how it should. I survived with a scar on my forehead and he vanished.”

“You mean he died?” interjected Tom, confused and curious.

“Well I can attest that he is very much alive, resembles something out of a horror movie right now, but he’s alive nonetheless,” said Aya, dramatically. “However, some people believe him dead, yes, and they are convinced I did something to ‘ _defeat_ ’ him.”

She rolled her eyes and made an annoyed expression.

“I don’t know why they would think that,” she continued, “but people who believe he still lives want me to repeat whatever _voodoo hoodoo_ I apparently did that night, because they are of the mentality,” her voice got high pitched as she said in an exaggerated tone, “‘if Aya Potter managed to defeat him once, she can doing twice’.”

She added a little, and exaggerated, lady-like cough for good measure, just to show how ridiculous it sounded.

“Personally,” she returned to her normal, no-bullshit, voice, “I think that is a load of bullshit and have absolutely no interest in fighting Voldemort when he manages to get a body and if he decides to start a war again,” she stated. “Hey, as long as he lets me live in relative peace, he can sow all the madness and destruction he wants. Hell, maybe I’ll even sit and watch the show with some popcorn,” she added with a pensive expression … As if that idea and image appealed to her and was seriously considering it.

“Anyway,” she shook her head slightly, returning to the story she was telling before she was side tracked, “what I was saying. After he disappeared, the same populace who came up with a ridiculous substitute for Voldemort, declared me the Girl-Who-Lived, I was left with my muggle relatives and didn’t know magic existed until my Hogwarts letter,” she enumerated with her fingers. “At first, I didn’t want to come to Hogwarts, you know?”

“Really?” Tom’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Yeah,” she nodded emphatically, “especially after learning someone from the wizarding world tried to kill me and might try to do it again, and I’ll have you know,” she wagged her forefinger at him, “that I have no interest in dying young.”

She sighed, defeated.

“But McGonagall insisted, and I finally thought to myself ‘Oh, fuck it, give it a try, maybe you’ll like it’. But no, _bitch_ , I wanted to quit after the first month!” she exclaimed, waving her arms around for emphasis, making her braided hair bounce.

Tom’s eyes widened at her display. “What happened?”

“Several shits happened, that’s what!” she said, agitated, still waving her hands all over the place.

“During my first DADA lesson,” she began, “I was so damn nervous that I got stomach cramps. Then … my scar started to hurt and it gave me a massive headache. This combined with the other shit made me sick and I almost barfed on Quirrelmort.”

As she was talking, she was also showing some of it in real time.

“Quirrelmort?”

At the confusion on Tom’s face, she stopped and tried to think of an explanation.

“Uh … Quirrelmort … It’s a combination of the names Quirrell and Voldemort. Don’t worry,” she assured him, “I’ll get to that in a minute.”

Another stray thought occurred to her.

“Now that I think about it,” she meditated aloud, but mostly to herself, “it’s a good thing I didn’t end up barfing on him, because then my chances of survival would’ve been significantly lower. Anyway, back to the main plot.”

She inhaled deeply again, readying herself for another bout of rambling and gesticulating.

“After spilling my guts out in front of Quirrelmort, they had to carry me to the infirmary. I ended up missing the rest of my classes that day. The next disaster occurred during my first Potions lesson. It started fine; I was acing the questions Professor Snape was throwing at me, I felt good, because I didn’t have to do magic at all, and then,” she paused for dramatic effect, “we started brewing a potion. It wasn’t difficult to follow the recipe written on the blackboard, but apparently, for a lot of people it was, because fumes of all colours started to fill the classroom … and the smell … it made me light-headed and the next thing I know … _BAM_ … I’m on the floor, unconscious and being shipped off to the infirmary again,” she exclaimed, again.

Tom only limited himself to nodding with amused eyes, although it was more than obvious he wanted to laugh openly at her.

“The third incident happened during my first Herbology lesson,” she continued, after inhaling again. “Again, just like Potions it started fine … Until twenty minutes in, my eyes started to itch and water … then my nose was all stuffy and runny … until I was having difficulties breathing and I wanted to scratch my skin off.”

She paused for a bit.

“You can imagine what followed next … another trip to the infirmary,” she exclaimed. “Apparently, I’m allergic to some magical plant, but because there are so many _fucking_ plants in the greenhouse, they still don’t know which plant almost killed me that lesson. So now, every time I have Herbology, I have to wear a suit that makes me look like something from _fucking_ outer space!” she added, raising her voice at the end.

Tom winced for a bit.

“And to close it off,” she exhaled, annoyed, “the fourth and final incident happened during my first flying lesson.” She addressed him directly. “I hope you’re seeing the pattern here.”

It was mostly a rhetorical question, so she didn’t wait for Tom’s reaction or comment.

“Anyway, I’ve never flown before and I’m not particularly fond of high places, so you can imagine how that ended,” she narrated sardonically. “I managed to get in the air, and I thought that would be it … but _no_ , Hooch wanted us to do a circle around the castle grounds, and I was like, ‘ _hell no, Bitch_! I’m floating in the air for three seconds and then I’m going back to solid ground’. But I panicked and forgot how to get down. As a result, I suffered a severe panic attack and had to be escorted to the infirmary … _again._ ”

Huffing and puffing, she put her hands on her hips. She turned to Tom again.

“And keep in mind that _all_ this shit happened before September was even out,” she complained.

“But after that point, everything settled and the rest of the year passed without a hitch. Unless you count that incident during Hallowe’en with the troll, but I slept through that shit, so I only heard about it,” she added in a quieter and less excited tone.

“Regardless, May came, exams were right around the corner, me and my friends were studying like crazy … And one day, I wanted to take a break, you know, go to the toilet, go to the kitchen to grab some snacks to get some sugar in my system, and the next thing I know … _BAM_ … Something hits me from behind. When I came to, I was in a room with my possessed professor, Voldemort and a huge ass mirror.”

Tom’s attention was piqued again.

“Of course, at first,” she explained, “I didn’t know Voldemort was also there, nor that he was possessing my DADA teacher. I thought it was just Quirrell and me … until Quirrell took off the turban he’s been wearing all year long and there was another face stuck to the back of his head.”

Tom’s eyebrows rose in surprise again.

“It was Voldemort’s face, of course,” she said, “and believe me, Tom, when I tell you he looked like something straight out of a horror movie. I mean, I’ve seen some pretty fucked up shit, but even I couldn’t look at him for more than a second at first. Then, of course, I got used to how he looked and all that shit … but still.”

She sighed.

“Anyway, he wanted my help in getting the Philosopher’s stone, I agreed, but just as I was about to hand over the stone, I thought to myself ‘Hold up! You’ve seen this shit too many times to just give the stone to him without some guarantee to live to see another day.’ So, I started talking, I don’t even remember what exactly I said to him anymore, but whatever I said must have worked because, when I finally gave him the stone, he was like ‘Nice doing business with you’ and I was like ‘Yo, you’re welcome and good luck with your future endeavours’. And just like that,” she snapped her fingers for illustrative purposes, “he was gone, and I was still breathing.”

Tom seemed intrigued by this, and she couldn’t blame him.

“Fast forward to the present,” she proceeded, realizing she’s been talking for quite a while now, and Tom must be getting tired of listening to her. “I seriously need to speed this up, otherwise we won’t be done before sunrise,” she commented.

“Yo, Tom,” she said, tentatively, looking at him, “are you really okay with me talking so much? I mean, even I would’ve been fed up with myself at this point.”

“Don’t worry, Aya,” he offered her a sincere smile. “I like listening to your voice. You have a way of telling a story that despite the length it makes it extremely interesting to follow.”

“Aw, Tom,” she sighed, moved, “the things you say. I don’t know how you can still listen to my ramblings, and without so much as moving and interrupting … You have the patience of a saint I tell you. I mean, here I am gesticulating like an ape and moving around like a paper kite, all over the place, and you’re just sitting there.”

Okay, maybe she should shut up before she ended up insulting him accidentally.

“Thank you,” she said instead and with a smile of her own. “It means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” he returned with a slight incline of his head, still smiling gently.

Before she completely forgot what she wanted to say, she returned to her narration. “Okay, where was I? Ah. After being warned by a house elf of mortal danger at Hogwarts, I tried to do the reasonable thing and stay the hell away from the school, but apparently, people at Hogwarts really want me here, because this time they sent Professor Snape to pick me up. Don’t get me wrong,” she added, as a manner of footnote. “I enjoyed Professor Snape’s company very much. We spent a lovely morning and early afternoon shopping and even ate lunch.”

She cleared her throat to return to the main point.

She told him about the party she attended dressed as a skeleton, the animalistic, disembodied voice she heard while she was trying to freshen up a bit after a debate concerning mummification process in Ancient Egypt, human sacrifices in Pre-Columbian civilisations and different physical and psychological torture techniques and which were better, and the petrified cat.

She also told him about her relief when the second attack happened and it was Colin Creevey who was petrified. In her words, “I could kiss the culprit for relieving me of that walking menace with a camera.”

At Tom’s incredulous head shaking, she added in a defensive tone, “What? It’s true! He was like a fly that no matter how much I swung my hands at it to make it go away, it kept coming back to annoy me some more.”

However, when the third, and so far final, attack happened, she got scared shitless again, because if ghosts weren’t immune then no one was, because as she put it, “No talisman or amulet can protect you from this OP beast, whoever and whatever it is.”

It was close to sunrise, when they finished talking.

…

After that conversation, Aya and Tom met every night inside the journal.

Usually, they talked about mundane topics to learn more about one another, things such as likes and dislikes; their views on life, humanity, supernatural forces, blood purity, the stupidity of the wizarding community as a whole and many more.

In between those topics, they sometimes discussed things related with Aya’s schoolwork and magic in general. Given that Aya had an extremely limited and poor grasp on magic, Tom made sure to broaden her horizons during their nightly chats as well. Which, Aya figured, came in handy before the finals, even if it could have been considered a form of cheating.

There were also no more attacks and culprit remained a mystery. The petrified students, the ghost and Mrs. Norris were back to normal just before the exams.

By the time Aya left Hogwarts with her group of friends for the summer, she considered Tom as a good, but secret, friend. Mostly because it was something Tom had asked of her, and with how much he helped her during the second semester, she figured, it was the least she could do for him.

Tom, however, didn’t know what to make of the enigma that was Aya Potter.

When he first spoke with her through the journal, he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from the person who had allegedly defeated his future self as an infant, but he wasn’t expecting the whirlwind of confusion that Aya Potter evoked in him.

After Ginny Weasley discarded him, which was to be expected (however, he would have never imagined being thrown into the _fucking_ toilet), the one to find him couldn’t have been any other than the Girl-Who-Lived herself.

He’d heard about Aya Potter from the Weasley brat, but he wanted to get to know her himself. He planned to gather information, search for weaknesses, anything he might use against his nemesis, or if he played his cards well enough he might have corrupted her and used her to further his goals.

But from the first conversation about toilet stench and soap and water, he was intrigued. Then, during their first face-to-face conversation she ended up completely fascinating him. His other self must have been just as fascinated with her as he was, if he simply let her live instead of killing her when he had the chance.

She was extremely casual, talkative, had some questionable morals, was quite vulgar for her age, if the little glimpse into her … juicy vocabulary was anything to go by, and she came off as straightforward and smart. She was also more than willing to share personal information, but that didn’t necessarily make her look too trusting.

In their subsequent conversations, which were never dull, he learned she had a dark and morbid sense of humour, deriving fun from watching people get hurt. She liked to read, mostly novels, but she recently became interested in manga, because apparently when she read blood and gore, everything was much more explicit in the latter and therefore more to her liking. She liked videogames, but couldn’t play them, but if she could, she would play those where she got to kill a lot of virtual people and monsters. When it came to music, she listened to pretty much everything, but preferred Rock. Oh, and when she was old enough, she wanted to marry a Demon Lord and have lots of little demon babies.

She also talked a bit about her life with the muggles, and unlike him seemed to have had a normal experience. As she liked to say, “It could have been worse. So I’m not complaining.” And he supposed she was right.

In turn, he slowly started revealing things about himself, his past at the orphanage, his tastes, his beliefs, his desires …

When he revealed himself as a dark wizard, she didn’t judge him, and her acceptance meant more to him than he anticipated. But even if she accepted him as he was, he was reluctant (afraid really) to tell her that he was the one behind the school attacks, that he and Voldemort were once the same person, that he had planned to kill or use her for his own selfish gains.

No, no matter how open and accepting Aya was as a person, there were some thing she was better off not knowing about him.

He started to see in her an accomplice, a partner, a confidant … a friend. A true friend, not what those pureblooded pricks he had for classmates called friendship.

To think it took five decades of being stuck in a goddamn book to, finally, encounter such a bond. And Merlin knows just how desperately he needed some entertainment after so many years of silence and solitude … even if it came in the form of a twelve-year-old girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, leave comments to let me know what you thought about Aya and her interaction with Tom (don't worry, there will be more interactions between them as well as other horcruxes) and what was your favourite part(s)? 
> 
> Next chapter: Aya's summer before third year and the first semester of the third year. I've retained the basic plot for third year from the books, but as always have decided to twist it in my own way. ;)
> 
> I'll see you on Monday! :)


	8. Third Year: The Sirius Black Conundrum (Part 1)

Aya’s summer was turning out to be the best summer so far.

She had Tom to talk to in her sleep and after years of saving small amounts of money the Dursleys gave her as a reward for tutoring Dudley, she finally decided to buy herself a mobile phone and a SIM card.

It was a cute, black, eight by five cm mobile phone. It supported regular phone calls but also hands-free ones, text messaging, it had an alarm clock and even a simple calculator. It was perfect. Now, she and her friends could communicate even when they weren’t at Hogwarts.

When their list for new school supplies arrived, they arranged a meeting at The Leaky Cauldron, and since it was around the same time as Aya’s birthday, they would use that day to celebrate it as well, even if a little belatedly.

Of course, when she told Tom about it, he was quick to make sure, he was the first person to wish her a happy birthday.

…

On the morning of 2 August, Hermione and her parents were kind enough to offer Aya a ride to London and back. They picked her up at the end of Privet Drive not to arise suspicion.

Upon seeing her, Hermione hugged her excitedly and wished her a happy birthday, even if she already sent her a text message on the morning of her actual birthday.  She also gave her the present, and as she was opening it, Hermione was commenting on everything.

“Since we recently returned from Greece,” she was saying, as Aya pulled out a beauty set comprised of hand cream, body lotion, shampoo and shower gel made from Greek olive oil and herbs, “and I bought some souvenirs for all of you, I said to myself, why not include the souvenirs I bought for Aya in the present.”

An enormous smile adorned Aya’s face as she thanked Hermione and gave her a one-armed hug.

“Now I won’t have to borrow shampoo and soap from Susan and Hannah anymore,” said Aya, still smiling as she pulled back and hugged her first proper hygiene set to her chest.

Hermione was smiling as well. “There’s more,” she prompted Aya to continue looking further. There was a bracelet made from dark blue beads with an eye on each of them.

“This is _mati,_ also known as the Evil Eye jewellery,” explained Hermione. “They come in different pieces of jewellery; bracelets, earrings, rings, pendants, charms, you name it. _Mati_ supposedly protects you from things such as envy of others and bad luck. I bought one for myself as well,” she said excitedly, showing her wrist full of handmade bracelets and the baby blue and lilac beaded _mati_ she bought for herself in Greece.

Hermione sure loved her bracelets, thought Aya lovingly.

“Well, with how our last two school years turned out,” said Aya, “protection from bad luck would be much appreciated. Although, I never saw you as a very superstitious person, Hermione.”

“I may not like divination,” retorted Hermione, “but even if this,” she said referring to the bracelet, “doesn’t actually work, it is still part of the culture … and it looks nice, so I guess it is still a win.”

“True,” agreed Aya.

…

When they arrived at The Leaky Cauldron, Susan and Hannah were already waiting there with their families. Upon seeing each other, they tackled one another in a fierce hug and added a happy birthday to Aya.

After assuring one another they were all feeling well, Susan and Hannah noticed a small gift bag in Aya’s hand.

“Oh,” teased Hannah, good-naturedly, “I see Hermione already gave you her gift, ha?” she winked at Hermione and elbowed her playfully.

“Yeah,” answered Aya with a smile, “and she bought me a body care set straight from Greece,” she beamed as she proudly showed it, “and a special bracelet that protects against envy of others and bad luck.”

“Oh, Merlin,” breathed Hannah disbelievingly, as she stared at the body care set. Susan’s face also showed astonishment. “I can’t believe this.”

Aya and Hermione were confused. “What is it?” inquired Aya.

“You see,” spoke Susan, “Hannah and I had the same idea, actually.” They both handed her their gifts. She started to unwrap them … and as soon as she was done, she laughed aloud when she saw that Susan bought her a shampoo, hygienic pads and a bag of special “period” tea, and that Hannah had bought her the same things, but instead of shampoo, she bought her a shower gel.

“You know,” elaborated Hannah awkwardly, “since you were borrowing our shampoos and shower gels all last year, we thought we should get you one of each.”

Still laughing at the coincidence, she happily accepted Susan and Hannah’s gifts and gave them one more hug.

Leaving the adults at the inn, the girls went to buy their school supplies.

“Uh, girls,” said Aya, carefully, “before we start buying anything, I think I should restock my moneybag first.”

“Me too,” said Hermione as well.

“Okay,” agreed Susan and Hannah. “We’ll go to Gringotts first then.”

…

After their trip to Gringotts, they bought new robes, blouses, skirts, socks, vests and cloaks.

When they had everything from the clothes section of the list, they went to Flourish & Blotts, where they spend a good hour just browsing the bookshelves for interesting books before they asked for four identical book sets, since all of them were taking the same electives.

Yes, even Hermione. It took some long and rational heart-to-heart conversation, but Aya managed to talk Hermione out of taking all five offered electives.

“You will overwork yourself and then your health will suffer because of it,” argued Aya.

“But I want to try all of them,” countered Hermione. “I can still drop them if I don’t find them interesting.”

“Yeah,” huffed Aya with sarcasm, “you can drop them later, of course you can … but knowing you, you’re too stubborn to go through with it.”

“I’m not stubborn,” sputtered Hermione, flushed and in a defensive tone. When Aya only fixed her with a look, Hermione succumbed to it and admitted, “Okay, maybe I am, but still.”

“No, Hermione,” Aya was relentless, “Nothing is worth risking your health over, not even school.”

Hermione ducked her head. Aya pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh.

“Look, Hermione,” she said softly, “What good will having five electives do, if you collapse from exhaustion, God forbid, during the exam period and you miss an exam?”

Hermione’s head jerked up as horror dawned on her face.

“Or you are so exhausted that you end up failing a subject, not an elective necessarily, but one of the core ones? Are you willing to risk repeating a year, just because you couldn’t decide between two or three electives?”

Agitated and terrified, Hermione shook her head violently.

“Then, we’ll take a more critical look at the electives, ask the professors teaching them what their subjects are about, what exactly is the curriculum like, and such,” proposed Aya, gently yet firmly.

“Okay,” sniffed Hermione.

After that conversation, all four of them did an extensive research on all the electives, from asking the teachers to speaking with the older students who attended those five electives and who had taken O.W.L.s in those subjects.

In the end, they settled on choosing the following three subjects: Study of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Muggle Studies. They were debating between Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures, but decided to go with the former, simply because none of them was interested in handling magical creatures, so it was a useless subject for them.

After buying the books, they went to get the more miscellaneous-style of supplies like quills, parchment (since they were taking Muggle Studies, they also needed notebooks and pens), Potions equipment and such.

…

It was past noon when they were finished with shopping. They returned to The Leaky Cauldron to report to the adults and to eat.

After a hearty meal, Hermione finally gave Susan and Hannah their souvenirs from Greece (she got them bracelets as well; for Susan, she got a _mati_ made from yellow beads, and for Hannah, she got a _mati_ made from magenta beads). Both girls were grateful and fascinated by the unique bracelets.

Since they still had a couple of hours left before they went their separate ways and they were craving something sweet, they decided to visit one of the shops that offered some type of dessert. The only two places that came to mind were Sugarplum's Sweets Shop and Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. They couldn’t pick one, so they decided to visit both.

To close their girls’ day out off, they stopped at Rosa Lee Teabag, where they had some deliciously brewed tea.

…

Full and content, Aya plopped down on her bed and just stared at the ceiling for a few moments, before willing her room to be sound-proof (a trick Tom taught her), taking out Tom’s journal, pricking her finger with a needle and pressing the bloodied finger onto the parchment.

A moment later, the journal vibrated and there was a breeze in her room, before the ghostly image of Tom materialised in front of her.

He looked at her. “I see you’ve returned from your day out,” he commented haughtily. “How was it?”

“Very productive and enjoyable,” she answered with a smile. “I got everything I planned and more.”

That intrigued Tom. “Oh?”

“You won’t believe this, Tom,” she giggled, as she rummaged through her gifts to pull out her two new sets of body care. “I’ve got two shampoos and two shower gels,” she announced, grinning from ear to ear. “Now, I’ll finally be able to wash like a decent human being without having to borrow from my friends anymore.”

“You were borrowing shampoo and soap from your friends?” repeated Tom, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Why not just buy yourself a showering set if you need one?”

“I’m too lazy,” complained Aya. “It’s much easier to just take a bit from both to wash once and then I’m good for the rest of the week.”

Tom’s eyes twitched for a moment, before jerking his head, and for a moment it looked (at least to Aya) like he was about to have a seizure. “Are you saying … you only wash once a week?”

“What?” she asked him, scoffing. “You thought I showered every day? _Na-ah_. It’s not practical, economical, nor eco-friendly for that matter,” she informed him matter-of-factly.

“Oh, and since when are you ecological?”

“Tom dearest,” she began in her overly polite tone, “didn’t you know? I’ve always been ecological.”

A second later, she burst out laughing her ass off.

…

With her third-year textbooks acquired, Aya finished her summer homework, and before she knew it, a new school term was about to start.

Following the already established course of action, Aya arrived at King’s Cross with Hermione and her parents, where they waited for Susan and Hannah to appear. Since they had time to spare, they went to the nearest supermarket to buy some snacks and refreshments for the nine-hour ride.

After they found each other and greeted one another briefly, they hurried onto the train to find a compartment. Unfortunately, most were already more than half-filled. Just as they were in the penultimate wagon, Aya, who was leading the group, noticed Professor Snape patrolling the hallway.

“Professor Snape,” she called out to him, waving excitedly. “What a surprise,” she commented, grinning from ear to ear. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you not aware of what happened, Miss Potter?” questioned Snape with a raised eyebrow.

She looked back at her friends, who looked just as lost as her, until Susan’s face illuminated suddenly.

“Oh, you mean Sirius Black’s escape, Professor?” she asked carefully.

There was a moment of confusion on Aya’s face, before she recalled where she heard that name.

“Yes, indeed I do, Miss Bones,” confirmed Snape. “No doubt your aunt has you informed of what is going on?”

Aya paled. That was bad news. What if Black decided to come after Snape and continue tormenting him like he did when they were students?

She couldn’t, _no_ , she _wouldn’t_ allow anyone harming her favourite person and professor. She would protect Snape with her life, if necessary, but she strongly hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“But I still don’t understand why you’re here, Professor,” commented Aya, because if Black was looking to harm Snape, wouldn’t he go directly to Hogwarts?

As she thought that, she realised something: Black was going to be close to Hogwarts.

The school year hadn’t even started yet, and everything was already all sorts of fucked up. Why couldn’t there be a peaceful year for once? Why did shit like this had to happen every year since she started attending Hogwarts?

“Some believe that now that Black is on the loose, he might come after you, Miss Potter,” said Snape, fixing his eyes on her.

Aya looked back, completely unfazed … until she registered Snape’s words. “Wait, what?” she blinked in confusion. “Why would Sirius Black be after me? It doesn’t make sense.” In more ways than one.

“He was the one who betrayed your parents to the Dark Lord, Miss Potter,” said Snape carefully. ”Or at least that’s why he’s spent twelve years in Azkaban, and because he also killed a dozen muggles and Peter Pettigrew.”

Aya’s friends gaped at their Professor and Aya herself thought she had misheard him. Wasn’t Black her father’s friend? It didn’t make sense for him to betray his fellow torturer.

“Okay …” she said sceptically. “I still don’t understand how this is related to me.”

“If the accusations are to be believed,” began Snape, “then Sirius Black not only betrayed your parents to the Dark Lord, but he was also his supporter. Since the Dark Lord is gone, he might try and avenge him by killing you.”

“That’s one of the most ridiculous shits, I’ve ever heard,” said Aya, before she could stop herself, because … _seriously_. There was one bullshit after another and she was getting tired of everything.

“Regardless of what you think,” continued Snape, ignoring her language, “the Ministry and the Headmaster think you need protection this year.” He glanced at her friends. “As well as the rest of the students, of course,” he added.

“Is that why there have been other teachers on the train as well?” wondered Hermione. “For protection?”

“In a way,” allowed Snape, “but not necessarily against Sirius Black, but the Dementors.”

Aya’s friends paled, and Aya was confused as to why.

“What or who are Dementors?”

“They are the guardians of Azkaban. They are cloaked creatures with skeletal hands,” explained Susan. “You usually recognise them by a drastic drop in temperature in the air around you and if you are exposed to them for prolonged periods of time, you end up feeling depressed … like you’ll never be happy again.” Hannah and Susan visibly shivered.

“But why would we need protection from the Dementors, Professor?” inquired Hermione.

“Because until they find Sirius Black,” said Snape, “they will patrol the vicinity of Hogwarts.” Horror was written all over the girls’ faces. “If Black is really after Miss Potter,” continued Snape, “then the only place where he can look for her is at Hogwarts.”

“Great,” commented Aya, sarcastically, “just great.”

“Now, ladies,” said Snape, “if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to my duty.” He was about to turn on his heels and walk away from them, when Aya stopped him.

“Do you have to?” she called to him pleadingly.

“Yes, Miss Potter,” he retorted amused. “Not everyone gets to enjoy their train ride to Hogwarts.”

“Oh, come on, Snape,” she huffed, dismissively. ”No one will notice if you desert your position. There’s only one teacher per wagon, so no one is going to bother you about it,” she rationalised with him.

Aya’s friends looked at her as if she were crazy. On his part, Snape was quiet, dangerously so, staring at Aya with narrowed eyes, until he relaxed his stance and expression into a defeated grimace and sighed, “I suppose it can’t hurt.”

“Yes,” she celebrated with an arm pump. After that, she hooked her arm under his and dragged him to the first nearly empty compartment she could find.

Speechless, her friends followed her and the professor.

…

The compartment Aya chose already had two occupants. One was a ginger-haired girl with freckles covering her face and the other was a blonde girl with curly hair and a dreamy expression.

“Excuse us,” addressed them Aya, “Would you mind if five more people joined you. The professor is one of them as well.”

“Not at all,” squeaked the ginger-haired girl, flushing furiously. “Please, sit,” she gestured towards the window. “Professor Snape as well.”

“Thank you!”

They didn’t know how, but they managed to squeeze seven people (one adult and six children) into one compartment. Snape took a seat next to the window, with Aya right next to him and the blonde girl sitting next to Aya. Hermione, Susan, Hannah and the ginger-haired girl sat together on the opposite side.

When everyone had their seat, they briefly said their introductions. The freckled faced ginger-head was Ginny Weasley, the younger sister of Ronald, Fred, George and Percy Weasley, and the girl with the dreamy expression turned out to be Luna Lovegood. Both were now entering second year at Hogwarts.

After introducing themselves, the train began to move, and they fell into silence.

“Did you get your Hogsmeade permission slips signed?” Hermione asked her friends. ‘Oh yeah, there was something like that in the envelope as well,’ recalled Aya. But knowing her guardians, she didn’t even bring it up. It wasn’t worth the shit that would go down if she did.

“Of course,” said Susan and Hannah happily.

“I didn’t,” she said simply. All three of them suddenly recalled their conversation at the end of the first year.

“Oh, yeah,” breathed Hannah sympathetically, “your guardians don’t like magic.”

“Then that means we will never be able to go to Hogsmeade together,” Hermione just realised, horrified, “because your relatives will never sign anything related to Hogwarts.”

All three looked saddened by that.

“You can still get me some candy when you go,” offered Aya.

“It’s not the same,” countered Susan.

“Well … unless a miracle happens before we finish Hogwarts, maybe there will be a time we all get to go to Hogsmeade together,” said Aya.

…

After the depressing Hogsmeade conversation, Hermione decided to change the topic to something more cheerful.

“You know,” she began, “in the month we haven’t seen each other, I’ve been really into Russian music.” Her friends raised an eyebrow at that. She took out her smart phone, opened YouTube and started searching for Russian songs.

“I don’t know what it is but I love how Russian sounds,” she continued. “I’ll probably take some Russian classes next summer and hopefully by the time I finish Hogwarts, I’ll have visited Russia at least once.”

The sound of the Nightcore versions of _Katyusha_ , _Kalinka_ and Russian version of _Ievan Polka_ filled the compartment. After a while, Aya added some lively Latino music to the mix as well. They even ended up singing a duet, Hermione and Aya.

While the students, even Ginny and Luna, seemed to enjoy the music, Snape was crossing his arms and sitting in the corner, observing the commotion.

Somewhat relieved, he thought it could have been worse. It wasn’t until Aya asked him to charm her clothes to look like a Mariachi costume to sing _Cielito lindo_ for her friends and Ginny and Luna in the form of a serenade that he finally started wondering about his life decisions.

…

Just when Snape thought they would be listening to music all the way to Hogwarts, the trolley lady interrupted the party with her candy.

It was then that Aya and Hermione remembered they had muggles snacks. They politely declined the woman and closed the compartment door, much to the confusion of the rest.

They proceeded to explain the various muggle snacks and refreshments they bought before the ride at a supermarket near the station. They had anything ranging from popcorn, different flavoured chips and flips. They even bought several packets of biscuits, should someone get tired from all the saltiness.

With at least seven hours of journey left, Aya had an idea. But for the idea to work, she needed everybody to see what was happening on the smartphone screen. That is why, after a trip to the toilet, she asked Snape if it would be possible to make a bigger projection of the smartphone screen and place it on either the window or the compartment door.

They chose the door as the projection screen. If someone had to go to the toilet, they would pause the video and wait for them to return.

Aya thought that since it was still a long ride to Hogwarts that something funny would be perfect to make the time go by faster. For that reason, she chose her favourite comedian Rowan Atkinson and pulled up a few sketches from his Stand-up Comedy Show from the nineties.

After distributing the snacks so that everyone had some, even Professor Snape, they moved towards the window to have a better angle.

Even though no one, besides her and Hermione, knew the muggle comedian, all of them laughed at the videos. Okay, maybe not Professor Snape, but Aya knew he was enjoying it as well if the rumbling coming from his chest was anything to go by.

After the sketches ended, her friends wanted more of it, so she searched for Johnny English movies online, while the others went to the toilet or refilled their snacks and drinks.

They watched both movies before moving onto the Mr. Bean series.

They were three quarters into the series, when the lights inside the train flickered and went out, while the train came to an abrupt stop. As soon as the temperature dropped inside, they all knew what was going on.

“Stay inside,” instructed Snape as he exited the compartment. He closed the door. The girls remained inside, half hugging each other just to be sure. Their eyes were fixed on the fogged pane, observing the professor’s movements.

He had the wand out, pointing it to the right, and soon after, a blinding light shot out of its tip. All of them squinted their eyes, but for some reason, Aya thought she saw some kind of animal shoot out of Snape’s wand.

They didn’t dare relax until Professor Snape opened the door and explicitly told them it was safe.

“Get changed,” he told them, “we’ll be at Hogwarts in fifteen minutes or so.” With that, he closed the door again and remained on patrol for the rest of the ride; while the girls hurried to clean up the compartment and then changed right there in front of each other … because there was no need for prudishness when time was of the essence.

…

The Headmaster’s speech before the feast reminded Aya of dementor presence and the threat Sirius Black represented to either her or Snape.

Back at the dorm, she went to sleep as soon as she could, so she could meet with Tom as soon as possible. She needed his opinion, because she didn’t know what to do anymore.

“Tom,” she called as soon as she materialised in Tom’s journal, “help me.” She climbed into his lap and hugged him.

“What is it?” he questioned her, stunned and worried. She usually didn’t act like this.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Tom,” she complained, agitated, “I can’t take this shit anymore.”

“What happened now?” he insisted, hugging her to him.

“First it was _fucking_ Voldemort, then that mystery culprit petrifying the students, and now …” she said melodramatically, “It’s _fucking_ Sirius Black and the _fucking_ dementors.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, she sounded like she wanted to do both.

“I … don’t know what to tell you,” he told her honestly.

“I’m this close,” she said pressing her thumb and forefinger tightly together, “I’m this close to snapping and sending everything to shit!”

Her breathing trembled as she fought to get herself under control.

“Why can’t I have a normal school year for once, ha? Why does shit like this constantly have to happen?”

He stroked her hair and back, trying to soothe her.

“Apparently, Black is after me to avenge Voldemort,” said Aya calmly, too calmly for Tom’s taste, after a while.

Tom stiffened, Aya continued. “You know all that the Girl-Who-Lived crap people like to talk about? Supposedly he was one of Voldemort’s followers … allegedly, he betrayed my parents to him and killed a shit ton of muggles and one of his friends, Peter Pettigrew.”

There was too much supposition surrounding Black for her liking.

“You don’t seem to think Black is a threat to your life,” commented Tom.

Aya sighed. “Even _if_ Black wants to kill me,” she hypothesised, “I still find it hard to believe he would betray my father to Voldemort. They were friends at Hogwarts, tormenting Snape and every single Slytherin they could get their filthy hands on. Unless one day Black woke up with a different mind-set, there is no way in hell he would join Voldemort, who was a Slytherin. It just doesn’t make sense, you know?”

“I see what you mean,” said Tom, “and since you’re the daughter of his friend, you don’t think you’re the one he’s after?”

“Something like that,” agreed Aya.

“Regardless,” added Tom, seriously, cupping her face, “keep me with you at all times. If anything happens, I would be able to feel it and protect you.”

She smiled and nodded.

Planting a kiss on his cheek and hugging him fiercely, she whispered a thank you into his ear. With a smile of his own, Tom said back, “You’re welcome.”

…

September thankfully passed without an incident, but she kept Tom tucked under her blouse and secured with a bandage.

Susan, Aya and Hannah, with the addition of Ginny and Luna, celebrated Hermione’s birthday without anything going wrong, and in the beginning of October, after one of her Herbology lessons, Aya found a stray cat.

Remembering that Hermione had always wanted to have a cat as a pet, she took it with her and walked to the Gryffindor Tower. There, before the portrait of the Fat Lady, she encountered Neville.

“Hi,” she greeted politely, “Neville was it?”

The boy nodded.

“Listen, could you call Hermione here?” she said. “I have something for her.”

“I would,” he mumbled nervously, “if I could.”

“What do you mean?”

He flushed in embarrassment. “I forgot the password,” he admitted in a small voice.

‘Oh, great,’ sighed Aya to herself. ‘How do I get the cat to her now, ha?’

Just then, the Weasley twins and Ginny walked by.

“Aya?” called Ginny, surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hey, Ginny,” greeted Aya with a smile. “I was looking for Hermione. I have something for her,” she said gesturing to the cat in her arms.

Ginny’s eyes sparkled as she gazed at the cat. “Can I pet it?”

“Of course you can,” laughed Aya and Ginny started stroking the cat’s head and back, “but from now on, whenever you want to pet it, you’ll have to ask Hermione about it.”

Ginny stopped petting the cat and hurried towards the portrait. “I’ll get Hermione,” she managed to say, before disappearing behind the portrait.

Less than a couple of minutes later, Hermione burst out of the hole. “Aya, Ginny said you want to see me …” she trailed off unable to find the words as her eyes fell upon the grumpy, but fluffy, looking cat.

“I found this little guy, or girl for that matter, snooping around the greenhouse,” explained Aya, amused at Hermione’s reaction. “I was about to leave, but then I remembered you still don’t have a pet, and you always talk about cats so …” she trailed, waiting for Hermione to pick up the cat. “Here it is.”

With misty eyes, Hermione gave Aya a strong hug, being careful not to squish the cat. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“It’s nothing,” Aya assured her, still smiling.

…

Just like the previous year, there was no incident until Hallowe’en. Like last year, Aya attended Nick’s Deathday Party. Only that this time, the party was in the Astronomy Tower and Aya went dressed as a mummy.

As she was leaving the party, she came across Hermione and the rest of Gryffindor students walking towards the Great Hall when Aya was certain that the feast had already ended.

“Hermione?” she called out to her, surprised, on the staircase. Hermione whipped her head in her direction and let out a shriek as soon as she saw her … until she remembered it was Aya dressed as a mummy.

“Oh, it’s you,” she breathed, relieved and with a hand pressed to her chest.

“What are you doing here?” asked Aya, confused. “Why aren’t you in your room?”

Hermione heaved a sigh. “Sirius Black attacked the Fat Lady.”

“What?” Aya couldn’t believe her ears. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Hermione. “All I know is that when my house and I arrived at the portrait, leading to our common room, it was destroyed,” she explained. “It had large scratch marks across it and no Fat Lady in it.”

“But how do you know it was Sirius Black that did it?” wondered Aya. “It could’ve been anyone else.”

“The Fat Lady said it was him,” replied Hermione.

Aya was rendered speechless for a few moments. A heavy feeling in her chest. “And what now?”

“We can’t go in,” explained Hermione, “not even to get a change of clothes, so we’re stuck in our uniforms until the portrait gets fixed.”

“And where are you going to sleep?” wanted to know Aya. She or her friends, Susan and Hannah, could easily lend Hermione some of their clothes. They weren’t so different in size after all.

“The professors have arranged temporary sleeping arrangements in the Great Hall,” answered Hermione, definitely not looking forward to spending the next few nights on the floor.

“The Great Hall?” repeated Aya with sarcasm. “And you’ll sleep in what? Sleeping bags?”

She grimaced. “Something like that.”

“Unbelievable.” Aya shook her head. Then, her face illuminated and she said, “Hey, I just had an idea.” Hermione looked interested.

“If this predicament is temporary, let’s say a couple of days at best, why not come to our room?” rationalised Aya. “Susan, Hannah and I would be more than happy to host you. And I’m sure if Ginny needs it too, Luna would be more than happy to host her for a few nights as well.”

“Really?” Aya could have sworn Hermione sparkled for a moment. “You would do that?”

“Of course, I would,” she huffed, as if it wasn’t self-evident already. “That’s what friends are for, after all. And I’ll be damned if I let one of my best friends sleep on a cold, hard floor in the Great Hall, when there is a perfectly comfortable and warm bed to be shared.”

Hermione squealed excitedly, did a little dance and then threw her arms around Aya in a hug.

“What would I do without you?”

“You would still be roaming around like a lost puppy that’s what,” joked Aya good-naturedly, and received a slight slap on the arm for it.

“Anyway,” said Aya in a more serious tone, “I don’t understand why the professors can’t arrange so that the other three houses can host the homeless Gryffindors. Separate them by year and then assign two or three of each gender to one of the houses. Simple as that.”

“I don’t know,” sighed Hermione, “but before I ditch my housemates for a more comfortable solution, we should talk to a professor, so that they know I’m not missing or anything.”

“Sensible thinking,” agreed Aya. “Come then, my dear Hermione,” she said, draping an arm over Hermione’s shoulder, “let us walk for a bit, before retiring to bed.”

Hermione laughed at Aya’s antiques and they started walking towards the Great Hall … or until they found a teacher.

“Oh, you look good as a mummy by the way,” said Hermione on the off-hand note. “Very convincing might I add.”

Aya glanced down at her costume. “Thank you. It took me an eternity to get all the bandages on, but I have to say I’m proud of how it turned out.”

“And how was the party?” kept asking Hermione. “Did you have fun?”

“It was even better than last year. Although I’m afraid I might not be invited next year.”

“And why is that?” Hermione frowned in confusion.

“I think Nearly Headless Nick might be upset with me,” she explained. “You see, he’s always going on about how he wants to join the Headless Hunt, but keeps getting rejected because he doesn’t fulfil the requirements. Tonight, the Headless Hunt Club made me, a mere mortal, an honorary member because of my innovative thinking and invaluable contribution to their Club. You can imagine how that sat with Nick.”

…

For the next three nights, Hermione rotated between Aya, Susan and Hannah’s beds, until the staff informed Gryffindor students they could return to their dorms on the fourth day.

There were no other incidents connected with Sirius Black in November, however, something or someone seemed to be dampening Hermione’s good mood anyway. She usually managed to dismiss it in their company, so it came as a surprise, when one morning, for breakfast, Hermione joined the Hufflepuff table instead of the Gryffindor one.

“I hope you don’t mind me sitting here,” she asked tentatively.

“Of course not Hermione,” said Aya, after getting over her surprise. “Come, sit.” She patted the seat next to her.

All three of them waited for Hermione to get comfortable, before inquiring anything.

“Is everything alright, Hermione?” ventured Susan, when her friend first plated the food and then proceeded to stuff herself with it.

“No, it’s not,” she mumbled.

“What’s wrong?” prompted Hannah.

“It’s that _stupid_ Weasley,” said Hermione with a dark grimace. ‘Oh yeah,’ thought Susan and Hannah, ‘you can tell Aya has influenced her with her vocabulary.’

“To which one are you referring?” said Aya. “There are five Weasleys at Hogwarts right now.”

“It’s _Ronald_ ,” she spat his name.

“What has he done to you now?”

The last time something bad had happened to Hermione was because of Ronald Weasley. Soon after they became friends, she told them about his nasty comments in first year and how she ended up crying in the girls’ bathroom because of them. The same bathroom the troll ended up attacking and got her in the Hospital Wing.

They already couldn’t stand Ronald Weasley, but with that knowledge … they couldn’t even digest him anymore.

“He lost his rat,” huffed Hermione, feeling irritated just talking about it, “or at least he keeps losing it, and he is constantly blaming Crookshanks, and consequently me, for the rat’s disappearances.”

She sighed. “It’s true that Crookshanks likes to hunt the rat, but he does it in good fun. He’s not killed it yet, and that stupid Ronald thinks his rat is dead, every time he can’t find it.”

She had to close her eyes; otherwise, she would end up making a scene.

“I’m so tired of his _bullshit_ ,” she said simply, “I can’t even stand to sit, much less eat, at the same table as him.”

She turned to them with a pleading look. “Would you mind terribly if I transferred here for the rest of the school year? I really can’t stand him. I wish I could just wrangle his neck.”

“Not at all, Hermione,” Aya consoled her, patting her on the shoulder, understanding her. “Not at all.”

…

In December, their first ever Hogsmeade weekend happened. Susan, Hermione and Hannah were excited to go, but their excitement was somewhat dampened by the fact Aya couldn’t go with them.

On the other hand, Aya would also have liked to hang out with her friends, but she also terribly wanted to visit Snape and talk with him. They haven’t spoken for a while now and she missed their conversations.

With most of the students gone, Aya didn’t have to worry about being seen entering Snape’s office.

“Good day, Professor,” she called happily as she entered.

“Ah, Miss Potter. I was wondering when I would be seeing your face again,” returned Snape in greeting, barely even glancing at her before returning to grade the papers scattered over his desk. Oh, how she missed his remarks.

She sat in the seat opposite him. “How are you?”

“As you can see, extremely busy,” said Snape, “but otherwise, I’m fine. You?”

“Well, I’m free, alone and with nothing to do.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” drawled Snape sarcastically.

“I know,” Aya played along. “I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to help you.”

“How about you help me by letting me help you?” proposed Aya.

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You want to help me grade your fellow students’ assignments?”

“Why not?” she wondered. “If I was a dunderhead, I probably wouldn’t have made it so far, wouldn’t you say?”

“You still have four and a half years of studying,” he reminded her. “Come say that to me again when you get past the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s.”

“Aw,” she whined, “don’t be like that. Then, if you don’t trust me with the assignments, I can maybe help you with potions? I see you have one brewing right now,” she said referring to a cauldron slowly simmering on a table in a corner.

“I would trust you even less with a potion.”

Before she could complain, he added. “However, if you’re so adamant about helping me … then I suppose you could help me whenever I would require your assistance.”

Feeling satisfied, she smiled and waited for Snape to give her instructions. She ended up grading a dozen first and second year papers and even helped him prepare and add the ingredients for the potion he was brewing.

In the meantime, he brewed some tea and they were slowly sipping it in between breaks while chatting. Never once, did they talk about Sirius Black … and it felt nice.

That was why the news Aya received that afternoon, when her friends returned from Hogsmeade, was even more shocking and completely unexpected.

Apparently, Sirius Black was her godfather … Simply wonderful, wouldn’t you agree?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, Happy New Year! (And to our dear resident Dark Lord Voldemort a very Happy Birthday as well :3) I hope you enjoyed the chapter and as always thank you for all the comments and support on this story. (I know I sound like a broken record, always repeating myself, but I think you deserve the recognition :3) You are more than welcome to leave comments for me to read :)
> 
> Second, since there are some songs mentioned I would encourage you to check them out for a more "immersive" experience, but you also don't have to it's up to you. Because the part with lively Latino music was glossed over, I will leave the songs that I had in mind if someone is interested to listen to them.  
> (Bulería by David Bisbal, Oye el boom by David Bisbal, Bamboleo by Gipsy Kings and Tu cárcel by Los Bukis (but look up the cover done by Soy Luna for this one), which she sang with Hermione in a duet.)
> 
> Now, we've entered Aya's third year and things are slowly getting juicier. There are still two more chapters concerning the third book.  
> Next chapter: Aya gets overwhelmed and cries for the first time (as far as she can remember), and she meets and talks with her godfather face to face ... and what a conversation it is. 
> 
> I'll see you on Friday with Chapter 9! :)


	9. Third Year: The Sirius Black Conundrum (Part 2) – Secrets Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned in the little preview last chapter, Aya cries in this one, meets and talks with her godfather as well as other people. This is also the chapter where she lets some of her cruel side bleed through. As you will soon learn, it's never good when Aya gets fed up, because you never know what kind of beast/monster you have awoken with your stupidity.
> 
> Thank you for your continued support and all the new commentators! :D I really appreciate your thoughts on individual chapters :D So keep letting me know what you think. :3 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

During the months leading up to the Easter Holidays, Aya felt lethargic.

She did her best to be her usual cheerful and vulgar self in front of her friends, but they noticed the news about Black being her godfather affected her more than she wanted. Nevertheless, they didn’t pry as it was more than obvious Aya didn’t want to talk about it.

She tried not to think about it, because she didn’t even know what to think in the first place. Now more than ever, she was convinced sometime before the term was out, she would come face to face with her godfather and no matter how many times or how many scenarios she imagined, she was always at a loss about what to say to him after all those years of not knowing of his existence. 

What does one say to a person who was supposed to step in when the parents couldn’t be there for them? What does one say to a person, who together with their father, had made their favourite person’s life a living hell, and now they’re suddenly supposed to be considered family?

She told Tom about it and, after much debating, Snape as well, even though, she didn’t know how this was going to affect her relationship with her favourite person, but Snape surprised her by simply saying, “Have you hit your head in the past few months, Miss Potter? What possibly makes you think an insignificant detail such as this would ruin the friendship we have?”

Relieved beyond relief and full of confusing feelings, for the first time, she ended up laughing and crying her heart out in front of Snape in the privacy of his office. It was also the first time he was the one to initiate the comforting hug as she smeared his robes with tears, saliva and snot, and struggled to get out the words.

“T-that’s because … y-you’re the c-closest person I’ve h-had to a f-father in my l-life … and I d-didn’t want to l-lose that n-now that S-Sirius turned out t-to be my g-godfather.”

Her voice broke and another wave of fresh tears came out of her eyes, as she continued clutching Snape’s robes. His hug tightened at those words, as he whispered, “Foolish girl, as if I’d let that idiot ruin everything.”

He stroked her back gently and let her cry. It took her a while to get out everything she’d been holding, but when she did, he offered her a handkerchief to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. She took it and while she occupied herself with making herself presentable again, he went to brew some tea.

“Thank you,” she said with a soft smile, her voice raspy from crying, as she accepted the steaming cup. After serving one for himself as well, he sat down across her.

She blew a few times at the tea, before taking a careful sip.

“Better?”

She nodded. “Is it still obvious I was crying?” she asked. It had been a good fifteen minutes since she stopped, but one could never know.

“Your eyes still look a bit red and puffy, but a rinse with water should do the trick.”

…

After finishing the tea and splashing her face with water, Aya decided to go for a walk around the castle grounds before returning to the dorm. Some fresh spring air might do her good. She would’ve stayed with Snape but he had to finish brewing another dose of potion for Lupin, and she didn’t want to bother him.

She was getting closer to the edge, when she spotted Crookshanks. He was probably chasing Ronald’s rat again. She got closer and when she was close enough, she grabbed the rat and held it out of the cat’s reach.

“Okay, Crookshanks,” she said to the cat, “that’s enough. I know it’s fun to chase Ronald’s rat, but if you continue doing it, you’ll only get Hermione into trouble with the rat’s owner and we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

The cat mewled and pawed at her leg, trying to reach the rat.

She sighed. “I better get this rat back to Ronald, before he decides to blame Hermione again.” She started walking towards the school when a giant dog leaped in front of her, growling.

“Another stray?” wondered Aya aloud. “Damn, this castle is full of strays.” She tried talking with it to calm it, but he hadn’t taken his gaze off the rat.

“Wonderful,” sighed Aya. She looked at the rat and held it to her eye level. “You really seem to attract all sorts of predators, ha?”

The rat was squirming and screeching. “Would you stop moving?” said Aya, slowly losing her patience. “Unless you want me to hand you over to Crookshanks and this lovely mangy stray as well.”

This seemed to work, but as soon as she tried to sidestep the dog, it blocked her way, barking and growling.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” she spoke in a low and menacing tone, “but you better stop whatever you’re doing right this instance, otherwise I’m going to send a curse at you.”

A distant voice called to her. She looked up and saw Professor Lupin and Professor Snape hurrying towards her as if the fires of Hell were chasing them.

‘What the hell is with them?’ wondered Aya.

…

_Ten minutes earlier_

Snape was about to knock on Lupin’s door to deliver the freshest batch of Wolfsbane potion to him, when the door flew open to reveal a frazzled-looking Lupin.

“Severus,” breathed Lupin clutching a piece of parchment, shielding it from Snape’s view. “What are you doing here?”

“I hoped my presence was self-explanatory,” retorted Snape holding the vial of the potion. Lupin accepted it, gratefully. 

“Just where do you think you’re going, Lupin?” asked Snape narrowing his eyes and glancing at the parchment.

“I thought I would go out for a stroll, before retiring,” stammered Lupin, nervously.

Snape’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “On a night of full moon?” questioned Snape. “Without taking the potion?” He shook his head. “It’s like you’re asking to be discovered and sacked.”

“I’ll take the potion now,” assured Lupin.

“See that you do. We wouldn’t want any … unwanted incidents happening this close to the end of the school year now, would we?”

Lupin swallowed hard. “No, of course not.”

With curiosity getting the better of him, Snape asked, “Say, what is that piece of parchment you’re trying so hard to hide from me? I hope it’s not illegal,” added Snape, faking concern.

“Look, Severus,” said Lupin in a hurry, “I really have to be somewhere right now before a student gets attacked.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “What is going on?”

Lupin let out a sigh, closed his eyes, as if debating whether to tell him or not. “It’s about Aya,” said Lupin finally. “And according to this map,” he showed Snape the part of the map where a set of footprints with Aya’s name was accompanied by those of Peter Pettigrew and … Snape’s blood froze, when he read … Sirius Black.

Without saying a single word, he turned around and went to where Aya was taking her stroll.

“Severus, wait!” called Lupin after him, but Severus was not stopping. He cursed, downed the potion in one gulp, grimaced at the taste, and followed the Potions Professor.

…

_Back to the present_

“Miss Potter, get away from the mutt immediately and release the rat you’re holding,” said Snape, harsher than he intended.

She looked confusedly from Snape to Lupin.

“Do as Professor Snape says, Miss Potter,” told her Lupin, encouragingly.

“Why?” questioned Aya. “Does the dog have rabies?”

The dog now turned on Snape, looking ready to attack.

“I don’t know about rabies,” said Snape, watching Black’s every move, “but I do know that this is not a dog, but Sirius Black disguised as one.”

Aya’s eyes widened as she instinctively stepped back and towards Snape.

“And the one you’re holding right now,” said Lupin,” is also not a rat, but a man named Peter Pettigrew.”

Horrified, she let out a scream and threw the rat as far away from her as possible. Which wasn’t too far, because the rat – Peter Pettigrew – hit the nearest tree and fell down with a thud.

“Oh my shit,” whispered Aya, breathing erratically, “please tell me I didn’t kill him,” she begged, looking at Snape, who had approached her and was checking her over for any injuries, while Lupin stayed behind with the restless and growling dog. “I don’t want to go to prison for killing a person impersonating a rat.”

He pointed his wand at the motionless rat and the next moment a short, chubby, mousy looking man was sprawled on the ground.

A disgusted grimace appear on Aya’s face when she saw him. “Now I’ll have to disinfect my hands as well.” However, she felt relieved when she noticed movement in the chest area.

She looked past Snape towards Sirius Black, who was still trying to get away from Lupin and lunge himself at Pettigrew or Snape, of that she wasn’t sure. She felt the urge to protect Snape, so she stepped between him and the dog.

“Sirius,” she called in an authoritative voice, “stop.”

The dog whined.

“Professor Lupin,” she addressed him in a calm and measured tone, “could you, please, force him into his human form?”

Lupin looked unsure, but did as asked.

Before her, the dog transformed into a thin and dirty man with sunken cheeks and haunted grey eyes with a glint of madness reflected in them, dressed in tattered prison clothes, sporting a shaggy-looking beard and oily, messy shoulder length hair.

“So …” she began; her face impassive and arms crossed. “You’re the infamous Sirius Black?”

He nodded sheepishly under her gaze.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came for the rat,” he stated, “but I also wanted to see you, pup.”

“Why?” she ignored the endearment. “What do you want to do with him?”

“I want to kill him for what he’s done!” spat Black with vitriol.

“And what has the rat – Pettigrew – done to you?” continued Aya, cool and unaffected.

“Not just to me,” countered Black,” but to _James_ ,” his voice broke, “… Lily … He deserves to die for betraying them.”

“No!” she said firmly. “ _No_ one is going to kill _any_ one,” she whispered in a measured manner with underlying impatience and threat. “What we _will_ do is _sit down_ somewhere private and _talk_ like _civilized_ people, because _that’s_ what we _are_ … _people,_ _not_ some _savages_ or _animals_ who only know violence to solve problems. Can you do that, _Black_?” She narrowed her eyes and he flinched at her question. “Or has Azkaban managed to snuff out all the humanity in you?”

“He betrayed your parents!” he yelled in frustration.

“So what if he did!” yelled Aya in turn, fed up with everything concerning the death of her parents and people that ended up playing a role in their demise. “Tell me, Black, will killing Pettigrew bring my parents back?” she asked in a hushed but harsh tone.

He looked lost and speechless.

“Will killing the betrayer of my parents make you feel better? … Well, let me tell you, it won’t,” she concluded. “Killing Pettigrew won’t change the fact that my parents are dead and while his death might make you feel better for a while, do you _really_ want to risk another trip to Azkaban? This time for actual murder?” she asked, disbelievingly.

“His death might not change anything,” said Sirius in a whisper, looking worn out and tired, “but at least I’ll feel better knowing I avenged my friend … Besides,” he huffed in resignation and self-deprecation, “I’ve nothing to lose at this point. I’ve already lost everything that night. I don’t care if I have to spend the rest of my life in Azkaban, I want to see that coward dead.”

Aya’s face became impassive again. “I see,” she said coolly. “So I was never _once_ a priority to you.” His head jerked as if slapped across the face and his eyes widened at the implication in her words. “You might have been my father’s friend but you never thought about _me_. I was clearly never _important_ enough to you. ”

He was shaking his head violently, his throat working vigorously to find the words. “Aya,” he managed in a strangled voice, “that’s not true.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, her voice was smooth but cut deep into Sirius, and that was exactly her intention. “Because as far as I know,” she continued, “a _god_ parent is supposed to be there for their _god_ child if the parents are not able to perform their duties for whatever reason.”

He gulped, breathing shallow and trembling. With rising horror, he realised she knew about him being her godfather. She sneered at him. “Tell me, _Black_ , where were you for the past twelve years of my life, ha?”

The words failed him, but Aya didn’t really need a response to that.

“It’s a rhetorical question so don’t bother answering, because I know exactly where you’ve been. And you know what? You’re right,” she said mockingly. “You did lose everything that night; your friends, your freedom … and a goddaughter, because I don’t need you in my life. Because if I managed to live without you so far, I can continue to do just fine without you.”

She could see her words were causing him pain, and that was exactly her intention. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted him to hurt. Did that make her cruel? Probably … Definitely, but she simply didn’t care, because he also clearly didn’t care enough, if chasing Pettigrew to avenge her father was more important than taking care of her.

“Pup,” he choked out, “don’t say that.” His eyes were filled with fear and desperation, he made a move to get closer to her, but with how cold and distant she looked and sounded, he didn’t dare. “Look,” he passed his hands through his hair, trying to salvage the broken bond, “I know I haven’t been the greatest godfather … but we can still make it work.”

“Really?” she raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “And how were you planning to make it work? From Azkaban?” she said full of sarcasm. “Besides, what good are you to me now, when you weren’t there for me when I needed you the most? Nothing you do or say will make up for almost 12 years of your absence in my life. And because of it, right now, you’re _nothing_ but a stranger to me.”

He fell to his knees and she took great pleasure seeing him like that, desperate, pleading. And now, for the finishing blow …

“You know,” she began light-heartedly, “now that I think about it, maybe me not growing up with you was for the best. With how you, my father, Professor Lupin,” she looked at him and she could see him stiffen, “and … Pettigrew over there,” she added dismissively, shrugging in his direction, “tormented and tortured Slytherin students during your time at Hogwarts …”

Lupin and Black both paled. They probably didn’t expect her to know this. Oh, she was having so much fun tonight. She was going to vent out all her frustrations and call them out on their bullshit.

“… Well,” she continued, “let’s just say I fear I wouldn’t have turned out to be as … _decent_ of a person as I am.” She smiled.

She glanced towards the horizon and saw that the sun was setting already. “But enough for now, we should probably move to some place more private.” She spoke directly to Lupin now. “We wouldn’t want your condition to be discovered, would we, Professor Lupin?”

He looked absolutely stunned and terrified … as did Black. Lupin swallowed hard, his jaw and throat working to form the words. “Y-You know?” he stammered, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

She almost felt pity for the poor guy. It wasn’t his fault that he was a werewolf, but he did choose to be friends with Black, Pettigrew and her father … all three of which were overall horrible human beings. So, what did that make him? He sure did nothing to stop the bullying.

“I’ve known since second year,” she answered with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“How?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does it matter?” She turned to Snape. “Professor, could you tie Pettigrew in such a way he cannot use magic to escape?”

The petition took him by surprise, but he ended up nodding and casting a spell that shot black ropes that restricted his movement. Hopefully, it will also stop him from transforming into his rat form and apparating.

“Professor Lupin,” he tensed, “I can trust you to keep Black in control, yes?”

He nodded. “O-Of course,” he stammered, still shaken that she somehow managed to figure out his werewolf problem.

“Excellent,” she smiled excitedly. “Then, by all means, lead the way.”

Holding Black by the arm, Lupin started walking towards the Whomping Willow and the Shrieking Shack. “This way.”

Aya and Snape, who was levitating the still unconscious Pettigrew, followed them.

…

Once inside the shack, she asked Snape if he could wake Pettigrew, because what good was an unconscious man to her if she couldn’t get answers she wanted from him.

“Ah, Mr. Pettigrew,” she greeted him with an overly sweet smile, “good of you to join us among the living. There is much all of us need to discuss, so please, all of you, take a seat.”

Sirius, Lupin and Snape all sat down; only Pettigrew was still looking confused and frightened, especially when he spotted Sirius Black in front of him, sneering and trying to kill him with his glare.

“What is going on? Why did you bring me here?”

“Any questions or doubts you might have will be answered in due time,” answered Aya smoothly. “After you tell me what I want to know that is. Now, sit.”

Trembling, he sat down and waited for Aya to speak.

“There seems to be a lot of mystery surrounding my parents’ death and I would like you to clear the mystery for me. No hiding, lying, or other kind of bullshit. Is that clear?” said Aya in her best no-bullshit tone, levelling both men sitting beside her with a look.

They nodded.

“Let’s start with you, Black,” she said, intertwining her fingers and resting her chin on them, elbows resting on the wooden table for support.

He flinched and looked up at her.

”Is it safe for me to assume that you’re innocent of the charges you’ve been accused of?”

He nodded. “My only fault in all this was convincing James to make _him_ ,” he spat at Pettigrew, “the secret keeper. If I hadn’t insisted … they would still be alive,” he added, looking lost in a faraway memory, regret eating away at him.

“There’s no point in dwelling on what you could have done differently,” she said impassively. “What’s done is done. No amount of regret and what ifs is going to change the past.”

It probably sounded indifferent and cruel, but it was the truth.

“Instead of focusing on the past,” she spoke to him directly, “you should focus on the present … and future.” His eyes filled with tears and hope. “James might be dead,” she continued, “but you’re still here … _alive_. Make the best of what is left of your life.”

He nodded and she turned to Pettigrew. “If Black is innocent of the accusations that got him in Azkaban, then the only one who could have done those things is you, Pettigrew.”

He whimpered and closed his eyes shut.

“What I want to know above all is why,” she spoke calmly. “I want to know what could have made you do what you did … although I can imagine at least one, but I want to hear what you have to say for yourself.”

“I didn’t want to betray them,” sniffed Pettigrew, “but when one is faced with life or death in the shape of the Dark Lord, I chose myself over my friends.”

“Coward!” yelled Sirius, ready to jump Pettigrew, but Aya stopped him. The rat man squeaked and pressed himself against the chair, shivering violently. “You should have been prepared to die for them! That’s what friends are for!”

“Sirius, enough!” yelled Aya. “Let him speak.” She gestured to Pettigrew to continue.

“Friends?” he asked, disbelievingly. “Are you sure we were friends Sirius? Why should I have given my life for people who wouldn’t have done the same for me?”

Black looked confused. “What are you talking about? Of course, we were friends.”

“No, Sirius,” he shook his head, “out of all four of us, you and James were the only real friends of the group. Maybe Lupin to some extent as well … but _me_?” he breathed, self-deprecatingly. “… You always treated me like the odd one of the group. I was always put down … made fun of.”

“Is that it, then?” breathed Sirius wide-eyed. “You did it to get back at me and James?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” countered Pettigrew. “I never wanted things to happen the way they did. I thought since Aya was the one the Dark Lord was after,” he glanced at her, “he would only kill her, but James and Lily got in between the Dark Lord and their daughter and … they paid the price.”

Aya sat there with an impassive look on her face, while Sirius was seething, anger flowing off him in waves, nostrils flaring with each breath. If it weren’t for Aya’s hand on his forearm, he would have jumped Pettigrew and ripped him apart limb by limb.

“When the Dark Lord disappeared, and I saw the destruction, I panicked,” continued explaining Pettigrew. “I knew someone would be alerted to the explosion and there you were, Sirius. You saw me and knew immediately what I had done, so I ran. I knew if you caught me, I would go to Azkaban. I didn’t want that, so I decided to make you take the blame for me and fake my death.”

Sirius was gritting his teeth and fisting his hand, snarling at the rat of a man that Pettigrew was.

“One more thing and then we’re finished here,” said Aya coolly. “Why did Voldemort want to kill me?”

Everyone in the room flinched at the Dark Lord’s name.

Sirius spoke. “Sybille Trelawney told a prophecy to Dumbledore about someone born at the end of July who would defeat the Dark Lord. Dumbledore thought it was you and Voldemort thought so as well, after someone who overheard the prophecy reported it to him.”

A prophecy. A _fucking_ prophecy caused all this shit. Aya was tired of everything. At this point, she was more than ready to disappear. An underground cave would be nice, Antarctica sounded lovely, although another planet or another galaxy sounded even better.

She heaved a deep sigh, closed her eyes and massaged her temples.

“I’m so sick and tired of all this shit concerning me, my parents … Voldemort,” she sounded exhausted.

She sighed again. “I have long since made peace with the fact that I’m an orphan,” she said calmly. “Would it have been better to have parents?” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, because I don’t know what it is like to have parents in the first place. So how can I be bothered by something I never had?”

She turned to Pettigrew. “Now you, on the other hand, I don’t know what to do with you.”

He flinched.

“You see, I understand why you betrayed my parents,” she said. “Every creature in the wild turns to violence and treachery when their very survival is at stake. So I don’t hold it against you. The same could be said for what you did to Sirius, although that is already murky territory, because there’s actual murder, wrongful imprisonment and fake death involved.”

She narrowed her eyes. “But what I absolutely cannot abide is any kind of endangerment of child sexual integrity.”

They all seemed confused; she decided to enlighten them. “You do realise you spent almost twelve years with a family that has a lot of young kids? Sharing a room … a bed with a minor.” As understanding dawned on Pettigrew, he realised with terror what she was implying.

“I may not be extremely knowledgeable about the wizarding law and customs,” she added with fake innocence, “but I think both in muggle and wizarding world an adult consorting with a minor who is below the age of consent, which is fourteen here in the wizarding world, is called paedophilia, a criminal offence that will lend you in prison for quite some time,” she informed him with sadistic glee.

He paled and even Sirius, Lupin and Severus looked uncomfortable and disgusted by what Aya was implying.

Pettigrew fell to his knees in front of her, begging. “Please, I never touched any of the Weasley children in such a way. Something like that never crossed my mind. I was only concerned with living a comfortable and quiet life in a safe environment, and I found all that with the Weasleys.”

“How do I know that what you say is true?” she inquired with fake concern, while delighting in seeing him squirm and beg. “How do I know you’re not simply saying this to save yourself out of a sticky situation? After all,” she levelled him with a sharp look, “you proved more than once that you’re capable of absolutely anything to safe your ass.”

Sirius and Severus seemed to have noticed what Aya was doing and they were both impressed with how she was handling the situation.

“Please,” he begged and pleaded. “I’ll do anything just don’t give me to the dementors and don’t kill me.”

A dangerous and bloodthirsty glint flashed in Aya’s eyes at Pettigrew’s words. “Anything?” she asked softly.

He nodded vigorously.

“Okay,” she agreed light-heartedly. “Since you’re begging me so nicely and I’m feeling generous today, I might let you off … under a few conditions, of course.”

She took out her wand, summoned a wooden stick and transfigured it into a knife. Then, she held it by the blade and held the handle to Pettigrew with an unnerving smile.

Severus, Sirius and Lupin tensed and were ready to intervene at any moment.

“You will take this knife and you will cut off your tongue and gauge out your eyes. And then, after that, I’m going to cut off your ears as well. Or should I let Sirius do the honours since he’s been itching to get some sort of retribution for what you did to his friend and him?” she spoke in a silky voice.

The rest of her audience paled, but Sirius looked like he liked the sound of it the most, if the hungry and bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes was anything to go by. Pettigrew, on the other hand, looked like he was about to pass out or have a heart attack. He shivered violently and shook his head.

“Well?” she encouraged impatiently. “What are you waiting for? You did say you would do anything I asked of you to let you live and not give you to the dementors.”

“Anything but that,” he whimpered, tears spilling out of his eyes.

She tsked annoyed. “I really don’t understand you,” she said disbelievingly. “First, you say anything is better than death and dementors, and when I offer you the alternative in which you would still breathe and be a free man, albeit be slightly mutilated and pretty much completely useless for the rest of your life, you don’t like what I’m offering.”

She turned to the other three men in the room. “Do you understand him?” she questioned. “Because I clearly don’t. I mean, this is the same person who cut off his own finger to fake his own death, but he doesn’t want to part with a few appendages on his face.” She squinted dramatically. “Where’s the logic here?”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay,” she conceded, “I will let you leave with all your facial appendages intact. Let it not be said I’m not nice and understanding, because that I have plenty.” Her expression hardened and she narrowed her eyes. “Now, get out of my sight and never forget that from this day forward, your every breath is a gift from me.”

And with that, Pettigrew fled the room and the premises of Hogwarts.

“Are you sure about this?” inquired Sirius, carefully.

“I’m sure, Sirius,” smiled Aya smugly, eyes still on the exit. “If there’s karma in this world, then he’ll get his … eventually. It may take a few weeks, months or even years, but I’m sure that when his due comes … it will be glorious.”

He huffed, pouting like a petulant child, but he accepted her decision. “I still say we should have tortured him at the very least.”

Sighing and rolling her eyes, she dismissed them.

“Oh, and Professor Lupin,” she called to him.

He tensed. “Y-Yes?”

“Your secret is safe with me as long as you don’t do anything that might put yourself or others in danger,” she said with a genuine smile.

He let out a shaky laugh and relaxed at those words. “I promise, Aya,” he said smiling, and left the shack to hurry back to his quarters.

Severus was unusually quiet and distracted, when he simply said, “I will be seeing you, Miss Potter,” and left.

Only she and Sirius remained in the room. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

“What will you do now?” she ventured. “Where will you go? You’re still a fugitive.”

He sighed, passing a hand down his face. “I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging. He glanced around the shack. “I suppose I could stay here for a while.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “ _Here?_ ” she emphasised, gesturing at the room. “There’s nothing but dust and dirt here.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to the filth.”

“Just because you’re used to it, doesn’t mean you should be fine with it,” Aya tried to reason with him. That brought a small smile on his face.

“And where do you suggest I should go then?”

Now it was her turn to shrug. “As long as Dumbledore doesn’t know you’re at Hogwarts, you could always crash with Professor Lupin.”

He burst out laughing. “I’ll think about it, pup.”

As soon as the endearment was out of his mouth, Aya seemed to close off completely.

“I should go,” she stated impassively and turned to leave.

“Aya, please, wait” he called after her.

She stopped but didn’t turn.

“Don’t go,” he whispered in a desperate, broken voice. “You’re the only thing left of James and Lily. I can’t lose you like I lost them. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

She huffed, unable to believe the gall to talk about her as an extension of her parents.

“Is that what I am to you?” she asked as she turned to face him. “A replacement for James and Lily?”

“No, Aya,” he said hurriedly, “of course not, but you are their daughter. You’re a mix of James and Lily whether you like it or not,” he concluded gently.

“I may have their genes, Sirius, but I’m not my parents,” she said with finality. “I am me. And until you start seeing me as an individual, as nothing but Aya … we have absolutely nothing to discuss. Because if Snape, who for all intents and purposes should hate me for being the spawn of James Potter, is able to see Aya and not James or Lily Potter in me, then you should be able to do it too.”

“ _Snape_?” spat Sirius, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. He couldn’t fathom his own goddaughter praising Snape. Besides … “What does Snivellus have anything to do with this?”

As soon as he insulted Snape in Aya’s presence, she shot him with a glare.

“That’s another condition I have,” she stated, wagging a finger at him, “don’t call him derogatory names. He’s a human being … treat him like one. Which leads me to my third and final condition: apologise to Severus Snape. Not because I asked you to do it, but because you should have realised a long time ago that what you did to him as a student was wrong. If you can do all three things I ask of you, then we can talk about mending our godparent-godchild relationship.”

With that, she left and Sirius was stunned and speechless.

Not insult Snape? Treat him like a human being? Apologise to him?

His eye twitched and his head jerked at the thought. What had that greasy git done to his goddaughter? He had to have done something, because why would she defend and praise him otherwise?

Then he remembered that if he wanted to have a chance to speak to her at all, he would have to do what she was asking of him.

He did say he would do anything she asked. He sighed. The things he did for his pup.

…

As soon as Aya entered Snape’s office, she knew something was wrong.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” she asked straightforwardly. No need to beat around the bush.

He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You’re drinking alcohol,” she deadpanned. “You never drink alcohol.”

“Tonight felt like a special occasion,” countered Snape, but she only felt like rolling her eyes, because she could hear and smell bullshit from a mile away, and Snape was trying to bullshit her.

Instead, she went up to him, took the glass with whisky or scotch and poured the liquid out.

“What is it?” she insisted gently.

“There’s something I’ve been hiding from you,” he confessed. She remained impassive.

“Okay …” she prompted, when he didn’t continue.

“Peter Pettigrew might have revealed the exact location of you and your parents to the Dark Lord,” he began, “but I was the one who told the Dark Lord about the prophecy that ultimately led to your parents’ death.”

“I see,” was all the reaction she could muster. Snape looked flabbergasted.

“That’s all you have to say?”

She sighed, feeling tired. “And what do you want me to say, Professor?” she inquired. “I thought I made it clear at the shack that I don’t care who did what that night or who played what role in my parents’ death. It’s in the past. And I’m going to say the same thing I said to Sirius: Instead of focusing on the past, you should focus on the present.”

An idea occurred to her, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Just a few hours back, she was crying her heart out, fearing she would lose what she had with Snape, and now that everything was said and done, he feared the same: losing a companion over a mistake in the past.

‘Stupid Snape,’ she thought lovingly. She hugged him and felt him tense under her gesture.

“Oh, Professor,” she giggled good-naturedly, “what was it that you told me when I was concerned you would stop talking to me or start hating me now that Sirius Black is in the picture as my godfather?” she teased him.

“I don’t know what exactly you’re referring to, I said a lot of things,” he retorted with a hint of amusement. “But I do recall saying something along the lines of ‘as if I’d let that idiot ruin everything’.”

She looked up at him, still hugging his waist, smiling. “And now I say the same thing to you: As if I’d let that detail ruin everything.”

“Aya, it’s not the same,” he looked slightly exasperated, but otherwise content and much more relaxed. He even returned her hug.

“What is it?” he questioned her concerned when he noticed the shocked look on her face.

“You called me Aya,” she whispered, moved. “You never call me Aya.”

He sighed, relieved. “Aya, don’t frighten me like that, I thought something was wrong.”

She giggled and snuggled closer to him.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said quietly. “I appreciate it.”

He murmured. After a while, he cleared his throat. “Aya,” he began slowly, “it’s getting late. You should go to bed.”

She whined, pouting. “Do I have to? It’s not like I have classes tomorrow.”

“Yes, you must, you menace. You may not have classes, but today has been a very tiring day and you and I both need rest,” said Snape, nudging her lightly.

Grimacing, she did as told. “Fine. Good night, Professor,” she called at the door, waving at him, before disappearing.

“Good night, Aya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if the Age of Consent in HP Universe is the one I put in the chapter, but I have decided to make it fourteen in the wizarding world, because they have different laws than muggles do and if they think 17 is mature enough to be a legal adult, well ... it's not a stretch to think they might think 14 is the age at which an individual is capable of giving consent to sexual acts. 
> 
> Next chapter: Severus and Sirius have their much needed conversation, Aya makes a few decisions and although she probably needs a therapist because of all the shit in her life, she instead decides to act as therapist for other people, namely Severus and Sirius.
> 
> I will see you on Friday with our third year finale! :3


	10. Third Year: The Sirius Black Conundrum (Part 3) – Severus & Sirius’ Confrontation and Aya the Therapist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned in last weeks end notes, in this chapter, Severus has a much needed talk with Sirius, Aya makes a few decisions concerning her future with Tom's help and acts as a therapist to Severus and Sirius, even though she's far from qualified to be one and she needs a therapist herself.
> 
> I also want to briefly mention that I officially concluded the first part of this trilogy (whoop whoop, finally) and will now slowly start writing the second part as well as other HP fanfiction ideas I have planned. 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who left either a comment or a kudo, or have otherwise shown their interest and support. :) Keep letting me know your thoughts, they are always appreciated, even when there might be parts that bother you ;)
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Despite her protesting earlier, Aya fell asleep almost immediately after touching the mattress. She didn’t even have enough strength to wash her teeth or change clothes. She only managed to grab Tom’s journal and press it to her chest.

She materialised in Tom’s world.

He was reading a book when he noticed her presence. “Welcome back,” he greeted her with a smile, but immediately became concerned once he saw how dispirited she looked. “What happened?”

Instead of answering, she asked, “May I lie down for a bit?” gesturing towards the bed. He answered gesturing towards the bed. “Thank you,” she lay down.

Tom joined her by sitting next to her head. He began stroking her hair, waiting for her to speak.

“I’m so tired of everything, Tom,” she whispered and the way she did it made her sound like an old person. He waited for her to elaborate on this. “And it’s not just something physical. I feel drained psychologically and emotionally. I should probably start looking into therapists, because with how much shit just keeps piling up each year, I feel like I need one.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. So he didn’t say anything at all.

“You know,” she continued with her hands on her stomach, looking at the ceiling, “today was the first time that I cried, Tom. At least that I remember. But even crying only helped for a moment. Now I am feeling overwhelmed again, and I don’t know how to deal with all these conflicting emotions.”

Her voice trembled and tears collected in the corners of her eyes.

“Is this about Black?” he inquired gently. “Your godfather?”

She nodded, sniffing.

“Today I met him in person,” she wiped away the stray tears that managed to roll down her temples. “And I told him what I thought … what I felt and I made sure everything I said hurt him, because I want him to hurt. I want him to suffer.”

More tears threatened to come out and her voice was cracking, but she refused to cry. “But now that I’ve vented off some steam, a part of me wants to give him a chance, while another part says it wouldn’t be fair to Severus.”

“And what does Aya want?” questioned Tom suddenly. “Leave Black’s and Severus’ feelings out of this and concentrate on what _you_ want out of this situation. Do you want a godfather? Do you want another important figure in your life? Do you want things to change or do you want things to remain as they are?”

Aya’s first instinct was to say ‘I don’t know’, but then she really thought about Tom’s questions and came to the conclusion that she wanted a family of her own.

It was true that she lived with her relatives, but to her it never felt like family. She had a room of her own, food, clothes, warmth when it was cold, a roof above her head, but she never received love, affection, hugs or kisses the way Dudley did. At the Dursleys, she didn’t have an endearment, they rarely even called her by her birth name, but here, at Hogwarts, Snape and Black had an endearing nickname for her with Snape lovingly calling her ‘menace’ and Black calling her ‘pup’.

Until she met Severus, she never even thought she could have a father figure. She only knew the life at the Dursleys and since they were her only living ‘family’ she convinced herself this was the best she could hope for and squashed any illusion she could build in her head or heart to protect herself from disappointment and heartache.

Now that she knew Severus for two years and a half and she learnt she had a godfather, she could finally imagine a different set of guardians and a different room in a different house … and it sounded and felt like a real family with loving parents and a home.

She sat facing Tom.

“I know it’s selfish,” she said, “but ideally, I would like to have both Sirius Black and Severus Snape in my life as my guardians.” Her determination faltered when she thought of what it would take to get where she wanted to get.

“But until Sirius gets professional help for his deep-rooted issues and traumas, he’s not fit to take care of himself, much less of anyone else. And let’s not forget that until Sirius and Severus come to an understanding where they at least are capable of treating each other civilly, this is only a fantasy so far.”

A heavy sigh escaped her.

“But if I had to choose between them, and only have one in my life, I would choose Severus. Even if Sirius gets his shit together to be able to take care of himself and me, I would still choose Severus, because he will always have a special place in my heart.”

“Then there you have it,” said Tom with a smirk. “Now that you know what you want, you can make things work in such a way that you get the best outcome possible. Even if it is ambitious and selfish. You should always do what’s best for you. And if others end up benefitting from it too, well,” he shrugged, “that’s just as good I suppose.”

A small smile appeared on her face as she nodded. “It will take time and effort to make those two not hate each other, but if something amazing can come out of it, then I’m ready to do what it takes to get my happiness with a family that I want. But first,” she breathed, “I need to clear Sirius’ name and get him to admit he was wrong in tormenting Snape and other Slytherin students.”

“Well, one of your friends has a relative in the Ministry.” Tom commented offhandedly. “The other thing will need some good old manipulation on your part.” He wiggled his eyebrows and a wicked gleam appeared in his eyes.

She laughed. “You make it sound so evil, Tom,” she joked.

He shrugged. “People are manipulating each other on day-to-day basis, most of it is harmless like convincing someone to accompany you to a party or a trip, or to get you an ice cream or two, but just because they don’t call it manipulation doesn’t mean it isn’t.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. Then, she smiled mischievously and engulfed Tom in a hug, nuzzling his cheek like a cat.

…

The next morning, the first thing she did after breakfast was write a letter to Susan. She tried to keep it vague if the letter was intercepted, but she explained enough for her friend to know about whom she was talking and what kind of help she needed from her aunt Amelia.

After sending the letter from the Owlery, she returned to the dungeons, but instead of returning to her room, she went to see Professor Snape.

He was already brewing something, when she peeked inside and greeted him. She joined him, but sat in silence on a stool opposite Snape, watching him brew. He asked for her assistance a few times like passing an ingredient or preparing something.

While they worked, Snape noticed she was more silent and distracted than usual. He supposed it had to do with the night before and Sirius Black. So he asked, “What did Black want yesterday?” while stirring, his eyes not leaving the bubbling potion.

She cleared her throat before answering.

“He wants to be a part of my life,” she said carefully, looking to see his reaction.

Though he didn’t say anything, Aya could tell there was tension in his shoulders. He really didn’t like to talk about Sirius, did he?

“And you?” he prompted her after a while. “Do you want him to be a part of it?”

He finally looked her in the eyes. How should she answer?

“I think so,” she said in a small, uncertain voice. “But not at the expense of what I have with you,” she added confidently.

“I thought we already established we would remain on good terms with or without Black’s involvement with you,” Snape reminded her.

“I know,” she argued, “but I did tell him that if he wants to have any godparent-godchild interaction with me he has to stop referring to you with derogatory names and he also has to sincerely apologise for what he did to you as a student.”

Severus looked sceptical about it. “Knowing Black, he never will. I’m nothing but dark, evil Death Eater in his eyes, so in his mind his actions towards me are completely justified. He thinks I deserved every single thing he did to me, because my affiliation with Voldemort proved to him that his conviction about Slytherins being dark and evil wizards was correct.”

“You’re not evil, Professor,” she assured him gently. “You may be a sadist,” she added, “but that doesn’t make you evil. And if not even Azkaban could open Black’s eyes to his wrongdoings and his misguided sense of good and evil, then all the more reason not to involve myself with him.”

“But you want to give him a chance,” prompted Snape, and she looked conflicted. “It’s understandable,” Severus assured her. “He’s your godfather. For someone who never had a parental figure, even a godfather like Black is good enough, I suppose.”

She sighed. He made it sound dismissive, but she could hear that fact bothered him. She had to supress a smile, because it wasn’t often that she saw Severus feeling jealous over someone being a parental figure to her instead of him.

“Well yes,” she conceded, but looked and sounded apprehensive. “It makes sense to give him a chance, but not in his current state of mind,” she elaborated. “He doesn’t know how to take care of himself, much less of another person. He needs help, professional help, a therapist, and not just because of the effect Azkaban has had on him, no. His problems come from much before. I mean his hatred of Slytherins and Dark Arts is neither normal nor healthy. He has some deep-rooted childhood issues and traumas that he has to work through first if he wants to function properly.”

“I suppose you’re right,” agreed Snape, shrugging, but Aya could see some of the tension leave his posture.

“Besides,” she said with a smile, “I thought you knew I already had a father figure before Black came into the picture.”

He looked at her.

“Speaking of parental figures,” he cleared his throat, “would it make you happy if I were to adopt you?”

There was silence and a shocked expression on Aya’s face.

“I’ve been thinking about it since yesterday, when you said I was the closest person to a father figure in your life,” he fumbled with words, “but I’ll understand if it’s too sudden or if you don’t want.”

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Not trusting her voice, she crossed the distance between them and hugged him.

“I would love to be your daughter,” she whispered, smiling. “It would be like a dream come true.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I sent in an adoption request to the Ministry?”

“No,” she shook her head, “however, I do think we should let Sirius Black know first.”

Severus grimaced at the thought of informing Black about it, but grunted an agreement nonetheless.

Since the topic came back to Sirius, Aya saw her opportunity to intervene. “Speaking of Black,” she began cautiously, looking up at him, “have you ever considered telling him what you truly think and feel about him and the things he did to you?”

He frowned in confusion.

“No, I have not. What would be the purpose?”

“If nothing else, to vent your frustration,” she offered awkwardly. “Trust me, venting helps … if only a little.”

He seemed unimpressed with her explanation, if his sceptically arched eyebrow was any indication.  

“You should say what you’ve always wanted to say to him,” she continued, “and then … let the past stay in the past. You shouldn’t forget it, but you also shouldn’t dwell on it. For your own good.”

He still looked unconvinced.

“Will you at least give it some thought?” The ‘please’ went unsaid, but her hands clasped together as if in a prayer and her desperate and pleading expression were enough to convey it.

They looked at each other for a few moments.

Finally, he sighed in defeat. “Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll think about it.” She was about to show how delighted she was to hear it, when he added, “But I’m not promising anything.”

For now, that was more than fine. She tried not to get her hopes up, especially when it came to anything related to Severus and Sirius.

‘Slow and steady,’ she told herself. Slow and steady and they might get far.

…

She spent the rest of the day in Snape’s office. While he corrected and graded assignments and brewed potions, she did her homework and studied for exams in June. All the while, they sipped tea in companionable silence and only left the office for lunch and dinner. 

Aya thought of visiting the shack to see if her godfather was still there, but decided against it until she received Susan’s reply.

The reply arrived the next day during lunch. She opened and read it in the privacy of her dorm. However, rather than Susan writing to her, she received a reply to her request directly from Susan’s aunt, Amelia Bones.

Ploughing through the convoluted mess of politeness, well-intended warnings and scepticism, there was a reluctant acceptance to give Sirius Black the benefit of the doubt and meet him personally to discuss things in more detail.

Ecstatic, Aya hurried to the shack with the good news. As soon as she entered, she couldn’t believe her eyes when the dust and dirt were replaced by sparkling cleanliness. She barely did a three sixty when Sirius in his dog form jumped her and tackled her to the ground, knocking all air out of her.

Coughing and grimacing, she tried to protect her face from dog saliva.

“Ugh, Sirius,” she protested, “I’m happy that you’re happy to see me, but please, stop this, it’s disgusting.”

The tail still wagging, Sirius reared back to give her some space. Grunting, she pulled herself up and assessed her appearance. “Now I’ll have to shower again,” she concluded.

Standing on his back legs, he pressed his front paws on her stomach, looking at her expectantly.

She sighed and petted his fur, which felt fluffier than the last time she saw it. “I’m glad to see you excited Sirius,” she told him, “but I need you to change back into your human form. I need to talk to you.”

He transformed. “What is it, pup?” he asked, slightly worried. “What do you want to talk about?”

“A couple of things,” she breathed, clearing her throat, “but first I wanted to apologise.”

Sirius looked confused. “Apologise? For what?”

“For the intent behind my words the day before yesterday,” she explained, “which was to hurt you. I felt frustrated and angry and hurt, so I wanted to make you suffer as well. I realise now that I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you like that.”

Sirius looked like he wanted to say something, but she stopped him by holding up her hand.

“That being said,” she continued with a serious expression, “I do not regret the words I said to you that night, because they conveyed what I felt and thought ever since I learnt you were my godfather in December, when my friends overheard some of the professors talking about you and me in Hogsmeade and reported it back to me. I stand by what I said … about Snape especially.”

“About … _that_ ,” he gulped. “I thought about what you said and … I’m ready to accept your conditions.”

That took her by surprise. “Even the conditions about Snape?” she inquired, and as soon as she mentioned the professor, Sirius looked like he might have a heart attack.

A shaky, high-pitched breath left him as a hand went up to his chest.

“E-Even S-Snape,” he struggled to get out the words. “It will take some time for me to, uh, mentally prepare myself for an official apology,” as he spoke his eye was twitching, “but, uh, if it means you’ll talk to me and be around me, I-I’m willing to s-stop insulting S- _Snape_ and, uh,” he swallowed hard, his forehead covered in sweat, “a-apologise for being an arse.”

Aya wanted to laugh at her godfather for being so melodramatic about Snape, but felt satisfied altogether.

“That’s amazing, Sirius!” she exclaimed excitedly. He looked pained at the praise.

“The things I do for you, pup,” he murmured, still looking on the verge of collapsing. “And since we’re already talking about S-Snape,” he twitched involuntarily at his name, “What is so good about him anyway? What do you see in him for you to defend him and put him before me?”

“Are you sure you want me to talk about Snape’s greatness?” she teased him. “If it comes to that, we’ll spend the rest of the day talking about him and how great he is.”

A horrified expression settled on Sirius’ face, which paled greatly. “C-Can you make it brief? I don’t think I’m ready to be bombarded with S-Snape’s glory.”

He looked like he was about to be sick just thinking about hearing his own goddaughter rave about Snape and his godliness.

She took pity on him and changed the topic … slightly. “Then answer me this: why do you hate Snape so much? Give me one good reason why you despise him.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he huffed, affronted. “He’s a Slytherin, he likes Dark magic, and he’s an evil Death Eater scum.”

He shut his mouth as soon as he looked at Aya’s narrowed and unimpressed look.

“What?” he asked defensively. “You asked for my opinion, well that’s my opinion.”

“That’s not a reason to hate someone,” countered Aya unable to believe Sirius’ mentality. “It’s like me hating you for liking dogs and turning into one, just because I like cats instead.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he exclaimed outraged.

“Exactly.”

He realised what she was suggesting. “You can’t be suggesting this is the same as my dislike of Snape.”

“Of course I can,” she assured him, “because there’s the same amount of ridiculousness in both scenarios.”

He was about to protest, but she beat him to it. “Sirius,” she said, “you don’t know him, so don’t act like you do.”

“And you do?” he prompted in defiance.

“More than you for sure,” she countered. She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Look, just because he’s a sadist and has a caustic wit, doesn’t make him neither bad nor evil.”

Sirius huffed in disbelief, crossing his arms while mouthing ‘caustic wit’.

“It doesn’t make him an easy person to deal with,” she continued, not letting herself be disrupted by Sirius’ childish pouting, “but you’re resulting to be pretty difficult to understand and handle as well.”

He looked downright insulted with his gaping mouth.

“Why don’t you give yourself a chance to get to know him?” she insisted in a gentler tone. “Who knows, maybe you’ll realise how wrong you were and just how amazing he is.” He grimaced barely able to believe what he was hearing. “And that maybe, just maybe, you can enjoy each other’s company as friends.”

Her godfather froze at the last word and something about his transfixed expression gave the impression that he was not there anymore.

‘Friends’ he mouthed absentmindedly. “Me and Snape … friends,” he said in a barely audible whisper, with the eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. She could have sworn he was swaying slightly.

‘I broke him,’ went through Aya’s head.

“… or drinking buddies at the very least”, she added quickly, before Sirius ended up collapsing for real this time. “Just don’t drink alcohol, drink tea or coffee instead. I refuse to have alcoholics for guardians.”

That seemed to have snapped Sirius out of his trance. “Guardians?”

“Anyway,” she hurried onto another topic, “this is not what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s about your current status as a fugitive, a convict and someone more than in dire need of psychological help.”

He pulled himself together at those words.

“Yesterday I wrote to my friend Susan Bones about you and today I received a reply from her aunt Amelia Bones.”

Recognition sparked in Sirius’ eyes at the name. “And?” he prompted her. “What did the letter say?”

Aya sighed. “She is still not convinced about your innocence, not without any solid evidence, but she’s at least willing to hear you out either under the influence of Veritaserum or an Unbreakable Vow.”

There was silence on Sirius’ part as he processed the information.

“Okay,” he whispered, determined. “I’ll do it. Did she say anything else?”

“Only to let her know our decision and then she’ll let us know the rest,” she informed him.

He nodded distractedly. “Tell her that unfortunately there is no solid evidence at the moment, but I’m willing to take any oath to prove my innocence to her.” Longing and hope filled his eyes, as he stared into space and continued, “If I am to be cleared of charges, I need her to defend me in front of the Wizengamot. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life on the run and in hiding. I want to be free.”

“And you will be,” she assured him putting a hand over his in comfort. “Regardless of how things go between us, I will do everything to help you get your freedom back and clear your name. I promise.”

A melancholic smile grazed his lips as he covered her hand as well. “Thank you, Aya,” he said with a raspy voice and misty eyes. “Thank you for helping this old dog, even when you don’t have to.”

She smiled back.

“Speaking of hiding,” she continued, “where do you intend to stay after the school year ends?”

He was about to shrug, when a shadow settled over his eyes. “There is one place in London,” he said carefully, “but I’d rather not go there.”

“Why?” inquired Aya. “Just what kind of place is it?”

“It’s my childhood home and it brings bad memories. I don’t want to go there,” he said simply, shaking his head.

She grimaced. “It’s that bad?”

A shaky breath escaped him. “You have no idea how awful it was living there with the type of family I had. Hell,” he huffed in a shaky smile, “even hearing about Snape’s godliness would be better than returning to that place.”

She winced sympathetically.

”And you don’t have anywhere else to go?” she insisted gently. “I mean you _could_ live like a homeless person in dog form in parks and shit, but why would you want that?”

“Even living as a stray on the streets sounds more appealing than going back to that hellhole,” countered Sirius. “It’s almost as bad as Azkaban.”

“You wouldn’t go there even as a necessary evil?” she pressed on with a pleading grimace. “It’s not like your family is still alive or is it?”

“No, pup, both my parents and younger brother are dead,” he said. “However, my mother still haunts that place in the form of a talking portrait. I really don’t want to listen to whatever bullshit she has to spout.”

“And you can’t get rid of the portrait?” asked Aya confused. If it bothered him so much, why couldn’t he simply get rid of it?

“She used some nasty magic to make it permanent.”

“Well, you could always demolish the wall she’s hanging from the muggle way,” suggested Aya innocently. “I hear it’s very effective.”

He laughed, although to Aya it sounded almost like barking. At least she could make him laugh if nothing else.

“I like how that sounds,” Sirius said appraisingly and with mirth shining in his otherwise tormented grey eyes, “but here’s what I don’t get, pup.” He looked at her with a curious frown. “Why are you so intent on me living in my childhood home even though I want to stay the hell away from it?”

“Because, godfather dearest,” she said with an overly sweet smile, “if we were to spend time together or if I wanted to spend a few days with you, do you expect me to sleep like a vagrant on the streets?” she raised her voice indignantly. “You may be okay with that kind of lifestyle but I’m not. I want a warm and comfortable bed to sleep in; I want to eat at a table like a civilised human being. And what if there’s bad weather outside?” she added feeling upset. “Do you expect me to live under a bridge or an umbrella until it stops raining? Like, hell no.”

He laughed some more. “Okay, okay, calm down, pup, I get it,” he said to soothe her temper. She huffed.

“If the house bothers you that much,” she crossed her arms, “then maybe you should remodel and redecorate it so it doesn’t look like your childhood home at all. And you could make your mother into a target practice before locking her away into a godforsaken vault in Gringotts for all eternity, you know to vent whatever frustration you have with her,” she added matter-of-factly. “She’s already dead anyway, so it doesn’t matter what you do to her portrait, right?”

Another round of rugged laughter left Sirius, as he clutched his stomach from laughing so hard. “You’re devious, pup,” he said, still smiling. “I like it.”

“It’s not deviousness, godfather,” she informed him haughtily. “It’s common sense. If you don’t like something get rid of it or change it. Simple as that.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said with a devious smirk and glint in his eyes.

“If it helps you decide; I’ll help you refurbish it from floor to ceiling,” she offered innocently, after clearing her throat. “Imagine:” she said draping an arm over his shoulder and waving her hand in front of them, “pastel colours, fluffy pillows, scent of flowers, a gaming set, and the portrait of your mother covered in paint and stabbed with darts and knives.”

There was a dreamy look in Sirius’ eyes as he imagined his mother’s portrait completely destroyed and his mother’s indignant and helpless shrieks as he throws knives and … whatever that other thing Aya said. Oh, yeah. He definitely liked that image … and he wanted to make it a reality.

“Well …” he said mischievously, “when you put it that way … how could I possibly refuse such an offer.” She grinned and hugged her godfather. He caught her in his arms and squeezed hard. “But I’m holding you to your word,” he said, a finger pointed her way. “You’re going to help me with everything, is that clear?”

“As day, Sirius,” she said, saluting like a soldier. “I’ll just have to arrange some things with the Dursleys for this summer.”

“The Dursleys?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“My relatives,” she explained. “I’ve been living with them since I became an orphan.”

He swallowed hard. “And … are they treating you well?” he tried to seem curious, although there was an underlying tone of threat.

Aya looked stumped.

“Uh … how do I put it?” she looked for the right words. “… It’s complicated.”

Sirius’ face instantly hardened. “Explain.”

She sighed. “For people who despise anything magical they treat me decently,” she elaborated, “but then again, they mostly ignore me and leave me to my own devices.” Her godfather wasn’t pleased with the answer, but he didn’t interrupt her. “However, it could’ve been worse than it is, so I can’t really complain. I have three meals a day, a room, a bed, my own clothes and things. Would I have liked some love and cuddles, sure thing, but as my guardians the only thing they are obliged to take care of are my physiological needs, and they have done enough in that department.”

He brought her to his chest and kissed the top of her head. Then, he sighed and rested his cheek on it.

“I promise you, Aya,” he whispered with fierce determination, “as soon as I am a free man, I’ll petition for you to move in with me. I may not be able to make up for the twelve years I’ve been absent but by Merlin and Morgana I’m going to spend the rest of my life giving you all the love and cuddles you didn’t get as a child.”

She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the tears that have gathered in them from coming out.

“I’d like that,” she whispered. “I’d like that very much, Siri.”

The endearment got her another squeeze. She let herself be bathed in Sirius’ scent, which was significantly better than the stink that made her nose itch from two days earlier, but wanted to talk briefly about another topic.

She cleared her throat. “But before we start making plans of moving in together,” she said, looking up at him, “you need to get your freedom back and you also need to see a psychologist.” At the confused look on her godfather’s face, she added, “… or whatever you wizards have for mental disorders.”

“Oh, you mean mind healers?” offered Sirius.

“Yes, mind healers. However, I would strongly encourage you to see a muggle psychologist.”

Sirius didn’t understand her insistence on a muggle mind healer, but she seemed to know what she was talking about, so he simply shrugged and agreed with her.

Aya, on the other hand, promised to look into psychologists as soon as the school year ended.

And then they cuddled some more, with Sirius having to suffer through Aya praising Snape: his award-winning opening speech in first year, his dark sense of humour, how he carried her like a princess to the infirmary when she fainted in her first Potions lesson because of the fumes, how he looked like a superhero from muggle comics, how he helped her every time someone was fawning over her by deducting points and giving detention …

By the time it was dinner and Aya returned to the castle, Sirius was intrigued by the Snape Aya saw and idolised. Maybe getting to know him wasn’t such a bad idea after all. The question was how to approach Snape. They were barely on speaking terms and with the history between them … it made many things even more complicated.

He’ll have to ask Aya for some tips.

…

The meeting with Amelia Bones came sooner than they expected. After Aya sent Sirius’ reply, Susan’s aunt wanted to meet with them immediately. A day before the Easter holidays ended, she appeared in the Shrieking Shack, armed with a vial of Veritaserum.

It took Sirius swearing his innocence on his magic, but ultimately Amelia was convinced and appalled an injustice of such magnitude could have been committed and overlooked.

She agreed to help Sirius, but needed him to present himself with her at the Ministry if he wanted to wait for his trial outside of Azkaban. They agreed to do it as soon as the school year ended, and then, Sirius would go to 12 Grimmauld Place where he would be in house arrest until his trial.

Sirius’ giddiness and excitement were dampened later that day when Severus Snape came to visit him. At first, he thought it was his pup, but then he opened the door, and instead of Aya, there was Severus Snape.

“Snape?” he greeted him, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“May I enter?”

“Of course.” He moved to the side and gestured him to enter. “I’m surprised to see you,” he commented after closing the door after Snape. “What brings you here?”

“Believe me, Black,” drawled Snape after a brief look around the shack, “if it wasn’t for Aya, I wouldn’t be talking to you.”

“Aya?” There was panic on Sirius’ face and in his voice. “I-Is she okay? Did something happen to her?” He looked ready to transform into his animagus form and bolt to wherever Aya was.

“Relax, Black,” said Snape calmly. “She’s fine … But it was her idea for me to talk to you about what I think and feel about you,” he explained. “For venting purposes, as she put it.” He grinned amused, an action that caught Sirius unprepared and feeling wary. “To say what I’ve always wanted to say and then … move on. For my own good.”

Sirius squirmed and gulped under Snape’s calculative gaze, as he assessed him from head to toe. He wasn’t ready yet for an honest and heart-to-heart conversation with Snape. It was barely a week since he even agreed to apologise, even less since he decided that maybe Snape might not be as horrible as he thought. No, he wasn’t ready for this conversation to happen.

“So I’ve thought a lot about what to say to you in these past few days,” continued Snape in a smooth and measured voice, “and I still can’t seem to find the words to communicate just how much I _despised_ you, Potter, and your little group called Marauders.”

Sirius felt his throat constrict at the vitriol in Snape’s voice.

“Do you even comprehend the extent of the damage you and your little group caused not just to me but also to countless others?” Snape questioned him, narrowing his eyes.

“Snape,” he whispered, voice cracking, “… for what’s worth … I’m sorry.”

“Save your apologies, Black,” he said his voice and expression impassive. “I don’t need them. I am aware Aya wanted you to do it to improve your relationship with her; but honestly, I have absolutely no use for your apology. Because ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’ won’t erase all the pain and shame you and Potter put me through.”

Sirius averted his eyes in shame. Severus sneered.

“In the end, I turned out to be exactly as you’ve always thought, didn’t I?” he prompted Sirius to see his reaction. “As soon as I was out of Hogwarts I became a Death Eater, I killed and tortured,” he said matter-of-factly. “I still like the Dark Arts. I passed the prophecy to the Dark Lord and inevitably and indirectly caused the death of Aya’s parents.”

Shocked, Sirius looked at Snape, but he was unable to say anything.

“But have you ever wondered why?” It was a rhetorical question, but Snape was curious to know nonetheless. “Why I became a Death Eater, Black?”

He shook his head and Snape huffed sardonically.

“Of course you haven’t,” he spat, “because you and Potter always took everything at face value. You always divided everything and everyone into black and white, good and evil, or at least what fit your definition of those parameters as if you had any authority to determine who fit into what category.” He took a breath before continuing. “But now that your _dear_ friend James is dead, betrayed by someone he trusted and considered a friend, and you’ve spent twelve years in Azkaban because of that same ‘friend’, are you still not even a little curious as to what could have driven me into becoming a Death Eater?”

At the mention of James’ death, his wrongful imprisonment and Peter’s betrayal, Sirius flinched, but he forced himself to look at Snape and ask him, “Why?”

He leaned closer and with a devious smirk, he whispered, “Because of you, Black. _You_ and _Potter_.”

Disbelief was written all over Sirius’ face.

“What?” Snape asked amused. “You don’t believe me? And what did you think all those years of insults, name-calling, humiliation and torture would amount to?” He sighed. “You know, Black, when one is constantly being put down, they lose confidence in themselves. They feel unworthy … unwanted … a waste … as if they will never amount to anything in life. So when Lucius, who was in it because of his father, came to me and said that I could become someone with my Potions skills by the Dark Lord’s side, I would need to have been a fool not to grab a chance to prove my worth.”

A hint of regret crossed Snape’s features. “Of course, I soon regretted it, but not everything was as bad as one would think.”

Sirius finally gathered enough courage to speak. “I was young and angry with the world because of my situation at home,” he said, regret coating every syllable. “I know now that I shouldn’t have vented my frustration out on you and the rest of the Slytherins like I did, but at that time I didn’t know any better.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“News for you, Black,” he gritted through his teeth, “you’re not the only person with a messed up family. So don’t give me that bullshit. For your information, my family life and childhood were also fucked up, only that instead of a shitty mother I had a shitty father who was constantly drunk and beating his wife and son because they were magical.”

Speechless, Sirius struggled to find the words. “Snape … I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” spat Snape viciously, “why would you, when you were so egocentric that no one else but you … and maybe James Potter mattered to you. But unlike me, Black, you had a decent school life, where you had friends and no matter how much trouble you got yourself into, Albus always had your back, while I had to suffer both at home and Hogwarts because of imbeciles like you and Potter. You even separated me from Lily by feeding her mind about dark magic being evil and Slytherins being Death Eaters.”

Sirius flinched as if hit. This was not proving to be easy. Then again, when was this conversation ever going to be easy?

He cleared his throat.

“About Lily,” he interjected tentatively, “James thought you were in love with her so he wanted to make Lily hate you. I only helped him.”

Snape stared at him as if he was the stupidest person alive.

“Oh, please, Black,” he snapped impatiently. “I never had romantic feelings for her; she was my _one and only friend_. We knew each other even before Potter entered the picture. I told her about magic. I told her she was a witch. I was her gateway into the wizarding world. When we got our letters, we were looking forward to being in the same house, but she ended in Gryffindor and I ended in Slytherin.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t expect you to understand how devastating it feels to an eleven-year-old child to be separated from the only person they feel at home with,” he said coolly, “so I’ll ask you to imagine yourself in my situation.”

He gulped.

“Imagine being childhood friends with James Potter, but when you arrive at Hogwarts, he ends in Gryffindor and you in Slytherin. Because you’re in different houses and have different schedules, you can’t really spend as much time together as you did before. The tension between the houses and your respective housemates put an extra strain on your relationship. And then, out of nowhere, a Gryffindor bitch sets her eyes on James and she wants to have him all to herself. But because she thinks you and him are more than friends, she decides to make your life miserable together with her group of friends. They insult you and ridicule you at every opportunity and although James defends you at first, over the years, he slowly starts to think like the rest of his house; that all Slytherins are evil and bad, so by extension you, Black, fit that description as well, especially because of your family’s reputation of being dark.” He paused. “Tell me, Black, how would that make you feel?”

He gulped, trying to swallow the knot that formed in his throat. “Horrible,” he croaked, blinking his tears away.

“Exactly,” said Snape triumphantly. “Then imagine saying something stupid to James during a vulnerable moment, where you feel upset and humiliated by the royal bitch who is interested in your friend, and he uses that as an excuse to finally break off the friendship that was already fragile. And no matter how much you apologise or how much you grovel before James, he doesn’t even want to listen to you. Instead, he even ends up dating the person who made your life miserable for all those years. As if all those years of friendship you shared up till that moment meant absolutely nothing to him.”

The tears in Sirius’ eyes threatened to spill over.

“Tell me, Black,” sneered Snape, relishing in the sight of a misty-eyed Sirius, “if your brother Regulus came up to you in those vulnerable moments, where you feel like the biggest waste of space in the world with no direction or purpose as a human being, and offered you to join him at Voldemort’s side as a Death Eater, what would you have done?”

There was a long silence, before he said, brokenly, “I honestly don’t know.”

Snape regarded him with coldness. “Regardless of what you would have done in my place, I decided to take the chance to be someone, and the first person I killed was my father. I killed him after he tried to kill me with a hatchet. The same hatchet with which he killed and dismembered my mother. I was sixteen, the same age as you were when you fled your family house.”

“Snape …” his voice cracked and he had to take a few shaky breaths before continuing, “If there is anything I can do to make it up to you …”

“Just like Aya said,” he said shrugging, “no matter what you do, nothing will make up for all the years of suffering at your hand, Black. The damage has been done and the current me is the result of all the hardships I went through. I’m bitter, petty, sarcastic, jaded, cynical, sceptical, sadistic. I’m not a happy person, but I do derive fun from morbid jokes and other people’s misfortune. I probably shouldn’t work with children,” he added as an afterthought, “but Albus didn’t give me a choice. Therefore, if I have to suffer the children, I think it is only fair that children have to suffer me. It’s not my fault if each generation of students is more sensitive than the previous one.”

“I still want you to forgive me Snape,” insisted Sirius.

“Forgive you?” questioned Severus, gobsmacked. “I don’t know if I have it in me, Black,” he admitted. “I’m neither Jesus Christ nor Virgin Mary with the endless capacity to love and forgive.” He paused. “But I am prepared not to shove our past in your face every time I see you or lose myself in the past every time I see your face,” concluded Severus.

Relief washed over Sirius at those words; because it was the closest thing to ‘I forgive you’, he would ever receive from Snape.

“Thank you,” he breathed and Snape nodded curtly.

He moved towards the door and was ready to leave, when he recalled a crucial piece of information he wanted to discuss with Black.

“Before I leave,” he turned to him, “there is one more thing I wanted to tell you and this time it does directly involve Aya.”

Sirius looked panicked again and was about to ask about Aya’s well-being again, but Snape beat him to it. “Before you start panicking, Black,” he said with a raised hand, “nothing is wrong with her, but she does want you to know before I go through with it.”

Sirius felt confused. Go through with what?

“What is it?”

“I want to adopt Aya.”

It took a few seconds for Sirius to process Snape’s words, and when he did, he almost fell over from sheer shock. “What?” he whispered. “Why? I mean, she’s, you know, James’ daughter. Why would you want to adopt her?”

He levelled him with a deadpan look. “I may have never married or had biological children,” he said, “and with my personality and looks I doubt I ever will marry or have children of my own, so why not adopt her?” He shrugged. “I may not like children in general, Black, but she’s a good kid and deserves to have at least one parental figure in her life. Why not me?”

“I’m the godfather,” countered Black, sputtering with indignation. “I can be that figure for her.”

Snape arched an eyebrow in mock surprise. “You, Black? As irresponsible and unstable as you are?” he gauged him for a reaction. “Do you even know what it means to be responsible and a parent?”

He flushed. “I can learn,” he stammered petulantly.

“When you were never responsible and can barely take care of yourself?” Snape continued to pester him with questions.

“I’ve changed.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt,” agreed Snape. “Azkaban is a place that will change anyone, but that doesn’t mean the change is for the better.”

A vein started to twitch on Sirius’ forehead. “I don’t care what you think, Snape,” he finally snapped. “I will get my freedom back, Snape, I’ll get a house where Aya can visit me and spend time with me and I’m going to start seeing a … a …” For the life of him, he couldn’t remember the expression Aya used for the muggle mind healer, so, instead, he said, “a muggle mind healer, psy-something.”

“A psychologist?” provided Snape helpfully.

“Yes, that’s the word I was looking for.”

“I’m glad for you then, Black,” said Snape sarcastically, “however, I still stand by what I said. And I _will_ turn in a request for adoption. I will become Aya’s adoptive father whether you like it or not.”

With that, he left a fuming Sirius behind, but could still hear his muffled exclamation, “Over my dead body, Snape!”

Severus Snape couldn’t help but cackle like a maniac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the third year finished, we are now moving onto Aya's fourth year, which will be significantly different than in the canon. In other words, I have decided to move the Triwizard Tournament up a year, so fifth year instead of fourth, and the plot for the fourth year will be my 'original' arc. But before that, we will take a look at her very busy and eventful summer. 
> 
> For example, two more horcruxes will make an appearance. Let's see if you can guess which two ;3 I want you to leave your guesses in the comments together with your thoughts on the current chapter. And besides the addition of two more horcruxes, Aya will find out more things in regards to Voldemort and herself ;) Any ideas? 
> 
> Stay tuned to find the answers next Friday!


	11. Locket Marvolo and Ring Gaunt

In the end, Aya’s third year wasn’t as shitty as she thought it would be. In fact, it turned out to be one of the best years so far, although she still had four years ahead of her, so she shouldn’t get ahead of herself. She just might jinx herself for the future.

In any case, by the end of her third year, she had a godfather and two potential adoptive fathers. It was hilarious watching Severus and Sirius compete with each other over who is going to get the parenting rights, especially after Aya said to Sirius’ face that if he didn’t pull himself together and if she had to choose between him and Severus, she would choose Severus over him. Sirius looked like he was about to pass out from those words, or suffer a heart attack. However, she did ask Severus to wait until Sirius was a free man, before actually filing an adoption petition, because it wouldn’t have been fair to Sirius otherwise. So for now and until Sirius’ name was cleared, she remained in the custody of her aunt and uncle.

On her last day of school, she managed to convince Severus to ride the train back to London with her and her friends. At first, he was adamant not to go, but as soon as she mentioned Sirius will be there after they would smuggle him onto the train in his dog form and under her invisibility blanket, he was more than eager to accompany her.

After successfully smuggling Sirius the Dog, Aya _et_ company snagged themselves a compartment and then, with Severus’ assistance, warded it against intruders for the rest of the ride. Only when there was no risk of someone spotting Sirius accidentally did he change into his human form.

Since they had a nine-hour ride ahead of them, Aya saw it fit to spend it in a similar fashion as at the beginning of the year, with lots of comedy provided by Mr. Bean and Monty Python, and some old school muggle music. Since Aya and Hermione were the only ones who actually knew the lyrics, they ended up singing several duets together, and Aya managed to get a dance or two with her future guardians Severus and Sirius.

The tricky part of the journey were the toilet breaks, especially whenever Sirius was involved, because he had to transform every time he needed to go and make the journey to the toilet and back under the invisibility blanket with an escort. Luckily, he didn’t have to pee or take a shit too often, so they only had to do it a couple of times.

As they disembarked the train at King’s Cross, Sirius transformed into a dog again and Severus was kind enough to help Aya with her luggage and the rest of the girls’ forming part of Aya’s group of friends.

Ginny said goodbye first as she joined her family with her older brothers. Luna was next as she spotted her father amidst the crowd. She waved them goodbye, then gracefully skipped away. Hermione spotted and waved to her parents as well. Since Snape offered to apparate Aya to the Dursleys, this would be the first time since they’ve become friends that she wouldn’t offer Aya a ride. She hugged her, Susan and Hannah one last time and then with a promise to write, or text in Aya’s case, she separated from the group.

Susan, Aya and Hannah, together with Sirius the Dog and Severus, approached Amelia Bones, who was not only waiting to escort her niece home but was also waiting for Sirius to accompany her to the Ministry to negotiate a trial date and house arrest instead of returning him to Azkaban.

After a brief and polite exchange of greetings and small talk, Aya petted Sirius’ head one last time, then kissed the top of it and said goodbye to him and her friends, as well as another thank you to Susan’s aunt.

She walked with Severus holding her trunk out of the station, but instead of immediately apparating her to her relatives, he surprised her by taking her to a nearby fast food restaurant. After the meal, they walked for a bit to let the food settle.

When they apparated onto the sidewalk, she thanked him for everything, then hugged him and promised to visit him during the summer. She waved at him until she disappeared behind the front door.

With a heavy and disheartened sigh, she prepared herself to announce her arrival to the Dursleys. As if they cared. Hopefully, she would be able to speak with her aunt and uncle about making a change in the guardianship without any complications. 

…

As she woke up the next day, she dreaded the conversation with her relatives, but it turned out she was worrying over nothing when her aunt and uncle barely even blinked when she told them she had a godfather and was planning to spend larger periods of time with him. Hell, Vernon even sounded delighted with the news and hoped she would be gone for good.

“As long as you don’t slack in your chores when you’re here and you keep your freakiness to yourself, I don’t see why you can’t go to your godfather,” he said. “Although, if you ask me, it would be even better if he decided to take you with him forever. God knows we’ve done more than enough for you in the past twelve years, and Dudley could always use more space for himself.”

She spent the rest of the day in her room, trying to do as much homework as possible to distract herself from thinking how the meeting at the Ministry went for Sirius.

In the evening, she received a text message from Hermione.

_Aya, Susan just wrote to me._

_Apparently, there’s good and bad news. Good news is that Susan’s aunt managed to keep Sirius out of prison and under house arrest at 12 Grimmauld Place. Bad news is that there’s no date for Sirius’ trial until there’s solid evidence of his innocence. Apparently, his testimony under Veritaserum and/or Unbreakable Vow is not enough for the Ministry. They want witnesses, culprits or other concrete evidence._

_P.S. Susan says if you want to visit your godfather tell me so that she can tell her aunt to accompany you to where Sirius is staying. Keep an eye on your phone to know when she’ll be there to pick you up._

…

“Well,” announced Amelia as they apparated in front of 12 Grimmauld Place, “here we are. Your godfather is inside and here are the guards I’ve assigned him.” She motioned to the two men standing at the door.

“Polordhus Trangeles,” she gestured the man on the left and he nodded in acknowledgment, “and his younger brother Nastarab Trangeles.” She gestured the man on the right as he greeted her in the same manner. “They are the newest additions to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement directly from America. Should you need anything, you can ask them.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Aya awkwardly, then turned to Amelia and thanked her for everything.

“Don’t thank me yet,” said Amelia. “We might have won the battle, but we still have a war to win. Until your godfather is declared innocent and freed of all charges, I’m afraid it’s too early to celebrate victory.”

Aya nodded. “One step at a time, I suppose.”

Amelia smiled softly. “Exactly. Well,” she sighed, “I’ll leave you in good hands and remember to pay Susan a visit. You know,” she playfully winked at her, “to repay the favour.”

She laughed. “Absolutely. Tell Susan I’ll see her around my birthday. But if she can’t wait till then, she is more than welcome to visit, although I’m afraid Sirius and I will be busy remodelling the house.”

“I’ll pass on the message,” chuckled Amelia, before leaving.

Alone in the company of Sirius’ guards, Aya awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Excuse my rudeness,” she said carefully, “but have you thought of putting name tags on the front of your clothes? I’m afraid your names are too …” she was trying to find a non-offensive word for weird and strange. She settled with, “ _complicated_ for my brain.”

The brothers exchanged looks, before the elder of the two spoke, “If it would make it easier for you, Miss. I think we could.”

“Great,” she exclaimed excitedly. “Although I could simply refer to you with simpler names, like Bob and Rob.” An idea occurred to her. “Oh, I know, I’ll call you Pat and Mat, the comedic duo from a Czechoslovak cartoon,” announced Aya happily.

The Trangeles brothers exchanged confused looks and shrugged at each other.

“Yes,” rambled Aya, “It’s perfect. Don’t worry if you don’t understand what I’m talking about. When Sirius and I set up modern muggle technology and get the Internet running without problems you are kindly invited to watch a few episodes with us.”

“Uh, much appreciated, Miss,” responded the elder stiffly.

“Well,” she said with finality, “it was a pleasure talking with you, but if you don’t mind, I’ll be going now. My godfather must be wondering where I got lost. Bye.”

She waved at them with a bright smile and opened the door.

…

“Pup!” exclaimed Sirius, pulling Aya into a hug and giving her a twirl as soon as she crossed the threshold. She squealed, dropping her trunk, and laughed in delight.

“It’s so good to see you, pup,” sighed Sirius when he put her on the ground. “It’s only the second day in this house and I’m already losing my mind,” he complained and Aya didn’t know whether he was serious or joking.

“Oh, Sirius,” she reprimanded him gently, “don’t exaggerate.”

As soon as those words were out of her mouth, a string of insults came from the end of the hallway.

“Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers!”

Aya blinked, speechless and slightly impressed with the range of vocabulary used in such a short amount of words, while Sirius inhaled deeply to keep his cool.

“And that, my dear pup,” he whispered, resigned, “is my mother.” Both looked at the ranting portrait. “Lovely woman, wouldn’t you agree?” he said sarcastically.

“Wonderful,” answered Aya in the same fashion. She placed a hand on her godfather’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Sirius,” she said comfortingly, “soon she’ll be too busy evading knives and darts to say anything else.”

The screams and insults continued. “… and if she does … we’ll throw some more knives at her,” deadpanned Aya.

“I hope you’re right, pup,” sighed Sirius, “I hope you’re right. Although you still haven’t met Kreacher the house elf. He’s almost as nasty as my mother.”

He let out another sigh, before cheering up. “Anyway, do you want to have a look around, before we start tearing this place apart and transforming it into paradise?”

She glanced around. “Why not?” she shrugged. “Lead the way,” she said dramatically, hooking one arm with his and the other in front of her.

…

They started with the ground floor, where he showed her the dining room and the kitchen where they encountered the grumpy and wrinkled house elf Kreacher who was muttering insults to himself. There were a guestroom, a bathroom and the drawing room on the first floor. The second and third floors had more guestrooms plus the master bedroom, while the fourth floor only had two rooms; one belonged to Sirius and the other to his brother Regulus.

They hesitated in front of Sirius’ room.

“What’s wrong?” questioned Aya gently.

“I haven’t been inside my room for almost two decades,” answered Sirius with a hand on the handle. “Ever since I ran away at sixteen … I don’t know what to expect.”

She rubbed his back in a soothing motion. “Do you want to leave it?”

He shook his head. “No. Eventually, I’ll have to face what’s behind it during our refurbishing process; I might as well see the state of it now.”

Aya didn’t know what exactly Sirius was expecting, but unless Sirius’ mother turned it into a BDSM-style torture chamber or a storage room for corpses, human and/or animal, everything should be relatively fine.

As Sirius opened the door, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary, some furniture was damaged, there were scorch marks on the walls and bed, books and magazines were torn and scattered all over the place and a bent muggle bicycle was lying near the bed, but otherwise it looked pretty alright if extremely dusty.

“So many memories,” whispered Sirius as he walked in and carefully passed his fingers over the wooden posters of the bed. He slowly approached the desk and looked more closely at the walls. He chuckled. “Oh, look, there are still a few Gryffindor banners.”

Through his peripheral vision, he spotted Aya holding and leafing through a muggle erotic magazine without even flinching or grimacing at the pictures of naked men and women.

“Pup!” he exclaimed and vaulted over the bed in his hurry to rip the magazine out of her hands or at least cover her eyes. “You’re a hundred years too young to be looking at this kind of material,” he stated emphatically, with a hand draped over her eyes.

She crossed her hands and huffed annoyed. “For your information Sirius, my eyes and brain have lost their innocence a long time ago,” she told him matter-of-factly.

“What?! When did that happen?”

She removed his hand from her eyes and started swatting and coughing at all the dust that lifted into the air due to Sirius’ acrobatics.

“A couple of years back if memory serves me right.”

He looked gobsmacked. “How? What happened?”

“Nothing awful or whatever you’re imagining,” assured him Aya, rolling her eyes. “I was in a bookshop looking at the books, when I stumbled upon Kamasutra in the guidebook section of the shop,” she casually narrated. “I flipped through it, read a few pages, looked at the pictures, then, upon closer inspection, I found other similar erotic guidebooks. Some were even more explicit than others, so, godfather dearest, I have since seen my fair share of pictures of boobs, asses, pricks and vaginas.”

Sirius couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His pup. His beautiful pup, who was supposed to be naïve and innocent to that part of life, turned out to be quite the veteran and connoisseur … at thirteen! Because of Kamasutra and other erotic manuals! He should set fire to the bookshop that stole Aya’s innocence.

“I’ll admit I was horrified at first,” continued Aya, completely unaware of the thoughts going through her godfather’s head, “but I suppose curiosity was stronger than fear and shame so, now, I don’t really mind reading all sorts of weird ass _hentai_. I am especially partial to tentacle porn and orcs. I don’t know why,” she concluded in a pensive frown.

Sirius was gaping like a fish, his eye and one corner of the mouth twitching.

“A-Anyway, pup,” he managed to get out. “You shouldn’t expose yourself to this kind of images, you’re a child.”

“It’s not like looking at those images makes me horny and want to have sex,” rationalised Aya.

At the mention of sex or the possibility of it made Sirius go ghostly pale. ‘Sex,’ he mouthed horrified and stumbled back.

“You’re still a hundred years too young to be thinking about sex much less having it,” exploded Sirius. “You’re a child.”

“I agree,” said Aya unfazed, “I am still way too young, but I don’t think I should wait until I’m a hundred and thirteen to finally have sex with my significant other.”

“Even when you’ll be a hundred and thirteen, you’ll still be too young to have sex,” sputtered Sirius.

She levelled him with a blank look. “Now you’re just exaggerating, Sirius.”

“You’ll never be ready to have sex, pup;” said Sirius vehemently, “because there simply isn’t a good enough man for you out there that would deserve such an honour.” He grabbed her shoulders. “You’re too good for the male scum that roams and is still to roam this Earth.”

“Then how do you suppose I should have kids, Sirius?” Aya asked him sarcastically. “I suppose artificial insemination would be an option but I don’t particularly like the idea of not knowing who the father of my children is.”

Stunned, Sirius let out a high-pitched squeal. “Children?”

“Yes, children,” deadpanned Aya. “At least three, although I would like to have more.”

Sirius plugged his fingers into his ears and started chanting nonsense to block out the talk about Aya having sex, which results in her having babies. “Lalalala, I’m not listening, lalalala.”

Aya rolled her eyes, but ended up laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. “Relax, Sirius. You won’t have to worry about it until my early twenties,” she assured him. He whined just the same and earned himself a slight slap on the arm for being melodramatic.

“Let’s talk about the house,” said Aya. “Although I didn’t think you would be so prude and old-fashioned,” she added as an afterthought.

“I’m neither prude nor old-fashioned,” he assured her somewhat affronted. “I’m the most progressive and modern Black in the history of Blacks. I just don’t like imagining you being …” he had to swallow to get the next word out, “ _intimate_ with a man, that’s all.”

He sighed, passing his hands through his hair. “I suppose this is what some fathers feel when their daughters become of datable and marriageable age.” There was a long pause where he stared before him with a lost expression, until he shook himself out of the daze and changed the subject of their conversation.

“Let’s talk about the house,” he said. “Now that you’ve seen it for yourself, what do you suppose we should do?”

She let out a long breath, trying to order her thoughts. “I would retain the layout and the number of rooms;” she started, “however we need to clean this mess before doing anything further.”

“Okay …”

“We’ll clean everything superficially before going through everything. Then we clean it again, take out all the junk, remove the tapestries, paint the walls, replace the furniture, make sure to ward this place in such a way that we can use electricity and muggle technology without magic interference, and then fill it with the rest of the shit.”

“And we can’t let Kreacher do all that?” suggested Sirius hopefully, because refurbishing sounded like a lot of work, and since he couldn’t do magic until he was a free man …

Aya levelled him with a deadpan look. “I suppose we could,” she allowed, “but then what would be the point of us refurbishing the house, if the house elf is going to do all the fucking work for us?” she snapped at him. “I know cleaning doesn’t sound appealing, but I find it extremely relaxing and therapeutic. It’s as if by cleaning the house you also clean yourself from within. Does that make sense to you?”

“Uh, not really.”

“Never mind,” she assured him. “You’ll see that it will make you feel better getting rid of the grime and junk.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he wasn’t about to argue with his pup. “Whatever you say, pup. You’re the boss here now, so, we’ll do whatever you say.”

“Okay,” she concluded with a firm nod, “first, we need energy. Have you eaten yet?”

He frowned in thought. “I think I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“Then all the more reason.” She moved towards the door. “Get ready, we’ll eat outside.”

“I haven’t got any money,” he informed her.

“I’m paying.”

She left the room and Sirius soon followed. She returned to the entrance hall where she left her trunk. From within it, she took out her wallet with all her savings. Tucking it into her trouser pocket, she turned to Sirius, who was standing behind her, and said, “Chinese or fast food?”

To Sirius it didn’t make much difference, so he simply shrugged. “As long as it is delicious.”

“McDonald’s it is then,” she declared, and tucked the money into her trouser pocket. “Let’s invite Pat and Mat as well.”

…

After the four of them ate at the fast food restaurant, they stopped at the supermarket so that Aya could buy some instant ramen and stir fry noodles, and at some specialised shop where Aya bought two cleanroom suits and two gas masks.

“For cleaning,” she said simply when she noticed Sirius’ inquisitive look.

Then, later that day, Sirius and Aya began their first round of cleaning, starting from the ground floor and slowly working their way to the top. Since they weren’t particularly in a hurry, each floor took them a day to clean.

On the sixth day, they started to gather everything Sirius didn’t want to keep in the house, which was basically everything, in the dining room. At first, they met resistance and opposition from Kreacher, especially when Sirius started smashing the expensive china on the floor or against his mother’s portrait, but after Aya kindly suggested he could always leave the house and find another wizarding family to serve, he immediately stopped complaining.

After Sirius managed to break every single breakable plate and cup as a way to vent some of his frustrations, Aya called Pat and Mat to return the china to its original state. After Sirius got his anger out, they planned to ship it to Gringotts, where it would collect dust inside one of Black family vaults together with the rest of the furniture and Walburga Black’s portrait.

As a way to relax during the breathers, Sirius made it a habit to throw knives of all shapes and sizes into his mother’s portrait. She sometimes joined in on the fun as well, but she quickly realised she preferred watching her godfather have fun tormenting his mother and listening to Walburga shriek every time a knife lodged itself into the canvas.

On the seventh day, they were going through the things in the drawing room. Aya asked Pat and Mat for help again with levitating the furniture to the dining room. As they emptied the drawers and cupboards filled with questionable objects, Aya stumbled across a golden necklace with a giant pendant with an “S” engraved on the front.

When she asked Sirius about it, he didn’t seem to recognise it. Feeling as if it would be a waste to get rid of the jewellery, she decided to keep it and Sirius didn’t mind it either when she asked him for permission. However, before she decided to wear it around her neck, she planned to disinfect it first. Lord knew just how long it had been sitting around collecting dust.

…

After she scrubbed it clean until it was sparkling like new, she inspected it from all sides. Apparently, the pendant was actually a locket, so it should open. Mind you, the emphasis was on _should_ , because no matter how much she tried to pry it open with her nails and fingers, she just couldn’t. She knew she lacked muscle, but damn, just how strong was she supposed to be to get it open?

She took it to her godfather to see if he could open it, but he failed as well. She took it to Pat and Mat to get it open with magic, but even that didn’t seem to work.

Resigned that she would never get to see what was inside, if there even was anything in it, she retired to the couch in the drawing room, where she and her godfather have decided to sleep during the renovation process, with the locket around her neck and Tom’s journal spread over her chest and the locket.

As soon as she fell asleep, she materialised in Tom’s journal. “Tom,” she said immediately, “I need your help with something. Today I found this locket while I was-“

She blinked a few times. Then, she rubbed her eyes. Finally, she shook herself to clear her vision but no matter what she tried, there were two Toms in front of her. One looked slightly older and much grumpier than the other, but they could pass as siblings.

“Tom,” she began with a confused grimace, “since when do you have a brother?”

The older of the two glared at her, while the usual Tom chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. It looked like he was looking for a way to explain the situation, but settled for a simple “It’s complicated.”

Tom Marvolo Riddle, on the other hand, snapped at her, “Who do you think you are to refer to me with such a filthy muggle name?” She blinked, surprised, but otherwise remain unfazed and he looked around. “Where am I anyway? How did I get here?”

“Well, uh, I’m Aya and you’re inside Tom’s journal,” said Aya carefully, gesturing towards the younger of the Toms.

The older fixed the younger version with narrowed eyes. “You?” he spat.

“I can explain,” he said defensively, “well … kind of.” He cleared his throat. “Locket and I are not exactly brothers, but we do come from the same person.”

Aya squinted. “Okay …”

“The technical term for what we are is Horcrux.”

He saw Aya’s shocked expression and before she could make a comment on how the first part of the word was pronounced and associate it with something vulgar and sexually demeaning, he hurried with his explanation.

“For your information, the spelling is H-O-R-C-R-U-X and it has nothing to do with whores.” She nodded, still a bit dumbfounded. He sighed. “Anyway … a Horcrux is an object where a person can store a piece of their soul and gain immortality.”

“So you, Tom Marvolo Riddle,” she said referring to the Tom she knew from her nightly visits, “and Tom Marvolo Riddle II,” she turned to the locket, “were once part of the original Tom Marvolo Riddle. Is that it?” Damn, that was a mouthful.

Tom nodded with a smile. “Exactly.”

She looked between them. “And is this original Tom Marvolo Riddle still alive?”

The locket Tom and journal Tom exchanged looks. The journal Tom answered, after clearing his throat. “Yes, he is. You’ve met him actually.”

“Really?” she grimaced in confusion, trying to recall the moment she met him and how he looked like, but nothing came to mind. “Are you sure?” she prompted him. “Because I don’t think I have.”

“Oh, believe me, you have,” he assured her.

“She has?” interjected the locket, unable to believe it himself.

He looked her over from head to toe. “This brat, who dares refer to us with our filthy muggle father’s name, met the original?” he asked his journal version while pointing at Aya.

She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. “Well, if you don’t want me to call you Tom, then what should I call you?” she said coolly.

He sneered at her. “Lord Voldemort.”

Aya gaped at the locket. “Oh. My. Shit.” she whispered as she connected all the dots in her head. “Oh my shit.” She started pacing back and forth, her breathing agitated. “Oh my shit.” She stopped, looked at the two horcruxes of Lord Voldemort, then said, “I know I’m repeating myself … but oh my shit … I can’t believe this. Voldemort and you were once the same person,” she breathed. “He was once Tom Marvolo Riddle. I would never have made the connection.” She looked at the two horcruxes. “You don’t look alike at all.”

“Actually, Lord Voldemort is an anagram for Tom Marvolo Riddle,” added Tom. He wrote his full name in the air with fiery letters and then rearranged them into the phrase ‘ _I am Lord Voldemort_ ’.

She let out a breathy chuckle and shook her head.

“Are you the only two he’s made?” she asked after a while.

Tom looked at the locket, because he didn’t have a clue. “There’s another actually,” replied the locket, succumbing to the insistent stares of his younger version and Aya. “At least that I know of,” he added in a small voice.

“And just how many was Voldemort planning on making?” Aya asked astonished.

“Seven,” said the locket curtly, “but by the time I was made, he only had plans for Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup and Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem. So five in total.”

“ _Seven_ times?!” exclaimed Aya flabbergasted. “Is he _crazy_? He must be, and _stupid_ as well.” She was pacing Tom’s room again. “No wonder he looks like he does right now, and not just because a _fucking_ killing spell went wrong.” The two horcruxes simply remained silent and listened to her rant. “And why _in the flying fuck_ would he need so many horcruxes? If his goal was to achieve immortality, well … he’s already been immortal ever since he created the first one, why would he need so many after that? Did he think he would be even more immortal with more horcruxes?”

By the time she finished ranting, she was breathing heavily and the two Toms looked slightly ashamed … because Aya was essentially right. Voldemort didn’t actually need more than one horcrux to be immortal, yet he kept making more.

She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t understand him.” The horcruxes understood him more, but even to them he was still a mystery in some ways … and that was saying something, especially since they were once a part of him.

She rubbed her eyes. “Anyway … where is the horcrux he created after the journal and before the locket?”

“If nobody has moved it from where I left it,” began the locket, “then it should be under a floorboard in the Gaunt Shack in Little Hangleton. And if they did, well, I left a nasty surprise for the thief.” A wicked grin appeared on his face.

She rolled her eyes. “Do we get him?” she proposed and immediately earned herself a glare from the locket as he assumed a defensive stance. “I mean, he must be feeling lonely like Tom and you,” she explained. “Surely, he would appreciate having chats with us.”

The locket relaxed. “I suppose we can,” he allowed. “But you’ll need my help to get it.”

“Okay,” agreed Aya readily, “but it will have to wait for two weeks at least or until I buy myself an Android with a GPS. What exactly is he?”

“A ring.”

“Okay,” nodded Aya, getting ready to leave the journal. “I’ll let you know when I’ll be ready for travelling.”

“Fine by me.”

“Excellent.” She beamed at him. “Oh and … I’m not calling you Lord Voldemort,” she informed him matter-of-factly. “There’s only one Lord Voldemort and that’s the original.”

…

In the end, the locket begrudgingly agreed to being called Marvolo. He was still grumpy most of the time and was particularly fond of secretive talks with Tom, which suited her just fine, because more often than not she was so damn tired, she didn’t think she could talk with Tom in the night as well, so now at least he had someone to talk to instead, but over the course of the weeks that remained until Aya’s birthday, he warmed up to her.

In the meantime, Aya and Sirius have contacted Gringotts to take away all the junk from the house, with the exception of Walburga’s portrait because Sirius still wanted to torture her by desecrating her portrait and making her watch the “destruction” of “the house of her fathers”, before finally locking her up in a vault for all eternity.

With the house empty, they could finally take down all the tapestries (yes, even the family tree, although it required her bribing the Trangeles brothers with half a dozen apple and cinnamon muffins each to get them to remove it) and do another cleaning of the place, before painting the walls. In regards to the wall where Walburga’s portrait was located, Aya had the brilliant idea to saw it off with a chainsaw. Polordhus was kind enough to transfigure a piece of wood into one after Aya provided him with a visual from a gardening magazine.

Sirius did the honours to separate the portrait from the wall, and then proceeded to cut through the canvas a few times with glee. By the end of the entire ordeal, Walburga was so traumatised she didn’t speak a single word until it was time to send her to Gringotts. Talk about muggle torture techniques being effective.

Even with four people, the progress was slow and for almost a week, they lived off restaurants and slept on the newspaper on the floor. At least they still had water to bathe and drink.

When it finally came to painting the house, Sirius and Aya have unanimously decided to go with a theme: seasons. Since there were only four seasons and the house had five floors, they decided to convert the topmost floor into the attic. Then, starting from the ground up, they painted the ground floor in pastel green for spring, first floor became summer in pastel yellow, second floor was supposed to be autumn in pastel orange and finally, the third floor became winter in pastel blue.

By the time they finished painting the third floor, the lower floors were more than dry, so now it was time to call on the experts at Gringotts to ward the house in such a way that magic won’t be able to interfere with electricity and electric equipment.

It was through that request that Aya met Ginny’s eldest brother Bill Weasley, who worked as a Curse Breaker at Gringotts. He was extremely nice and tall. Aya didn’t know when the last time she had to crane her neck so much was and her neck didn’t appreciate it. After sleeping uncomfortably for a week, her entire body ached.

Bill and his team successfully warded all the floors, but they wouldn’t actually know if it worked until they got a PC, a couple of consoles, TV, and most importantly the Internet.

Now it was finally time for furniture, especially fluffy and comfortable beds. Since Sirius couldn’t withdraw anything from his family vaults, it was up to Aya to convert as much money from her trust vault into pounds without going broke, although by the time this project was finished, she would probably only have enough to buy her school supplies in August and not much else.

After tricking the shop assistants into believing they had arranged transport for all the furniture they bought, Polordhus and Nastarab proceeded to shrink and make everything light enough to carry home in six big bags.

Once back at home, the packages were returned to normal and unpacked, then the heavy and large pieces were levitated to their designated place after they have assembled it. By the time they were done, they managed to set up the kitchen (equipped with stove, oven, microwave, sink and dishwasher), the dining room, the drawing room, the bathroom (equipped with a washing machine) and two bedrooms. The rest would have to wait, because both Aya and Sirius were too exhausted to invest another month into redecorating the rest of the bedrooms at this point.

With all the furniture in place, they could finally focus on smaller things. They restocked the pantry with fresh food, and the kitchen with new pots, dishes and cutlery, they could finally put their clothes away in the closets. Their beds had fresh and brand new covers and sheets and they could finally get to the good part of the decorating process … the muggle technology.

Aya went all out with getting the best gaming PC on the market, because she didn’t feel confident enough to build her own, mouse and Keyboard as well as a large widescreen monitor, an Xbox One and PS4, a Wii U and a few extra Gamepads that were compatible with the console, a large widescreen TV and an Android. She still kept the small and cute mobile phone she bought before her third year, because why not, but she did transfer the SIM card into the new phone.

Polordhus and Nastarab confounded a few people from a telecommunications company to come and set up the electricity cables and the Internet. After a couple of days, every piece of muggle equipment was working without any problems, which meant that Bill and his team did a good job at warding the place.

Two days before her birthday, Aya, Sirius, Polordhus and Nastarab were finally able to admire the result of the proverbial blood, sweat and tears that went into refurbishing 12 Grimmauld Place. It wasn’t as nearly complete as Aya would have liked, but she was proud of herself nonetheless. Not many soon-to-be fourteen-year-olds could say they refurbished a house with their own money and sweat. Of course, now she was broke, unless she would gain access to a whole fortune when she reached majority at seventeen, but that didn’t matter to her because she finally had a proper home.

…

This close to her birthday, her friends wanted to celebrate it with her. Hermione took charge and organised everything for the big day. She arranged a meeting at King’s Cross in the morning and when all six of them were gathered (Aya, Hermione, Susan, Hannah, Ginny and Luna); and after they gave Aya her gifts, they took the tube to the centre of City of London where there was an anime and comic books themed convention.

Aya had to give herself a budget; otherwise, she would have bought most of the things with the last reserves of her money. She did buy a few volumes of different manga series, a headband with fox ears, a cute, grey bat plushie, which reminded her of Severus, and anime and comic themed apparel, such as T-shirts, socks, gloves and even panties.

They took many commemorative pictures with Hermione’s phone and selfie stick. When it came time for lunch, the girls tried a few food stalls at the convention. Aya finally got the chance to try sushi and onigiri as well as curry & rice, tempura, matcha ice cream, melon pan, dorayaki and ramune.

Hermione, on the other hand, was taking pictures of all the food and drinks they ordered before eating it. Aya couldn’t help herself. “Hermione, have you set up a food porn channel during the summer?”

“No,” she snorted. “What makes you think I would share all this erotic food pictures with others? This is for my personal use only.”

Aya laughed, while the rest were somewhat confused by the exchange.

“Say,” started Hannah, “when were you planning on doing the school shopping?”

“Yeah,” interjected Susan, “we should repeat our shopping trip from last year.”

“Oh, we’re definitely repeating it, with two new additions, of course,” she said referring to Luna and Ginny. “But when exactly I’ll be in Diagon Alley?” she let out a long, loud sigh. “I don’t know for sure. Later today, I have a family birthday celebration with Sirius and Severus, and then tomorrow I’m going with Severus to his house to spend a few days with him,” she explained.

“I can’t believe it’s been a month since I last saw him. And we’re already half-way through the holidays. Ugh, with all the refurbishing, I feel like I haven’t had a single day of rest since the school ended,” she complained tiredly, slumping in her seat.

“Oh, yeah, how is that going?” prompted Hermione enthusiastically as she took a bite from her onigiri.

“Well, we finished with what we planned,” told them Aya, “which is the first two floors, we left the uppermost floor as is and it will serve us as the attic, but we would need to invest a lot more money and time to finish the second and third floors, and I already exhausted my resources.”

She ate a sushi roll. Her face illuminated at the taste as well as something else. “Oh, yeah, Ginny, I met your brother Bill,” she said excitedly.

Ginny, who was mostly quiet up until now, perked up like a puppy with the puppy eared headband she bought from the same vendor Aya bought her fox ears, Luna her bunny ears, Susan and Hannah their cat ears and Hermione her dragon horns.

“Really?” she asked happily.

“Yeah, he came with his colleagues to ward our house so that we could use muggle technology without magic interference.”

“What did you think of him?”

“He’s nice,” said Aya munching on another sushi roll, “I like him.”

Ginny absolutely glowed at the praise.

“Unlike another Weasley that we all know,” she cleared her throat.

Ginny grimaced sympathetically. “I know what you mean,” she agreed. “Ron can be extremely difficult … most of the time.”

”Anyway, I probably won’t have time till August 5th,” said Aya, bringing the conversation back to shopping in Diagon Alley. “In any case, we will be in touch through Hermione, so we’ll arrange something by then.”

…

At around five o’clock in the afternoon, Aya’s birthday celebration with her friends ended, when Ginny’s father came to collect Ginny and Luna, Amelia her niece Susan and Hannah, Hermione’s parents came for Hermione and Polordhus came to pick up Aya and apparate her to 12 Grimmauld Place.

She hurried to the drawing room where Severus, Sirius and Nastarab were already waiting for her. Setting down her mountain of bags, she exclaimed “Severus!” at the same time as she hugged him.

“It’s nice to see that you are still happy to see me,” teased Snape and earned himself a playful swat on the chest from Aya.

“Of course I’m happy to see you. Why wouldn’t I be happy to see you?”

“I don’t know, with how much time you’ve been spending with your godfather you might have changed your mind.”

“I will always be happy to see you,” assured him Aya, smiling.

With a smile, he wished her a ‘happy birthday’ and handed her over the gift.

“Not fair, Snape,” protested Sirius, “giving her the gift before her own godfather.”

Laughing, she greeted Sirius as well who squeezed the living shits out of her before giving her … a blank parchment. “It’s something your father, Remus, Peter and I created when we were still at school,” he explained.

She looked confused. “You created your own parchment paper?”

Sirius grinned wickedly. “Ah, but that is no ordinary parchment, pup,” he assured her mysteriously. He borrowed Snape’s wand pointed it at the blank parchment and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

As soon as those words were out of his mouth writing appeared on the parchment. It read, ‘Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs are proud to present The Marauder’s Map’ with what looked like an illustration of Hogwarts.

She opened it and was surprised to see moving footprints and names floating around. Luckily, Sirius was more than happy to explain the conundrum in front of her.

“It’s a map of the Hogwarts Castle. It shows seven secret passageways from Hogwarts into Hogsmeade as well as what everyone in the grounds is doing every minute of every day.” He looked at her expectantly. “Isn’t it brilliant?”

“It’s a … very interesting device for sure, Sirius,” she said awkwardly, looking for words to express her thoughts on her godfather’s gift. “A complex device no doubt as well as all-sorts-of-fucked-up device.” Now it was Sirius’ turn to look confused by what she meant.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” she added quickly, “I am honoured you would give me a map of Hogwarts, because God knows everyone needs one because of how huge and confusing the school is, but why the fuck would I need to know what the people at the school are doing and where they are.”

She returned it to him. “If you managed to get the map to act as a locating device, I’m sure you can make it so it will stop locating them as well. Until you do, keep it, because I don’t want to be caught with a spying and stalking device. Thank you, but no thank you.”

Dumbfounded, Sirius took the parchment back. She turned to Severus.

“Anyway, has Sirius showed you what we did with the house?” she asked, beaming at him.

“Yes, he has, and I must say I’m impressed,” he admitted, looking around the drawing room appraisingly.

“Well, we still have a couple of floors left to furnish, but right now we have what we need.” She looked satisfied as she gazed at the bright drawing room filled with gaming stuff.

…

Before dinner, she managed to convince Severus to join her and Sirius in playing some Mario Kart 8. It ended with her winning a trophy with Yoshi, Sirius placed 5th with King Boo and Severus placed 8th with Waluigi.

Then, she proceeded to show them all the things she got from her friends as well as all the shit she bought for herself at the convention.

She got a couple of T-shirts with anime characters: one from Tokyo Ghoul and the other from Blue Exorcist. “I don’t know what they are about, but I liked the character designs so I bought them,” she commented. Then she got Spider-man panties, Nyanko-sensei gloves and Pokémon themed socks.

“I was debating between buying a Pikachu plushie or Pikachu socks and as cute as the plushie was, I went with socks, because you can never have too many socks,” she explained.

“However, the plushie I absolutely had to get,” she said importantly, “was this little guy.” She pulled out the bubble bat plushie. “Tada! Severus, meet Severus.”

Severus looked confused, so Aya was kind enough to explain.

“He was so cute and fluffy, and as soon as I saw him, he reminded me of you, Severus, so I named him after you, because with all the flowing robes during class you look like Batman.”

Severus was speechless. He pinched his nose and let out a sigh.

“And you didn’t get a black dog plushie?” questioned Sirius, flabbergasted.

Aya looked apologetically at him. “They didn’t have them.”

After an exquisite dinner (she had to give kudos to Kreacher for making it delicious and not poisoning it), she opened Severus’ present; an intermediate potions kit, his copy of the sixth year Potions textbook with his side notes, and a signed Hogsmeade Permit Slip.

The signed permission slip was amazing by itself, but what brought tears to Aya’s eyes was the wording used by Severus on the slip. It read, ‘ _I, Severus Snape, soon-to-be adoptive father of Aya Potter, give my explicit permission for Aya Potter to visit Hogsmeade on selected weekends._ ’

She hugged him. “Thank you,” she whispered in his neck.

However, when Sirius saw it, he wasn’t happy about it. He felt as if Severus was cheating. Severus simply looked smug about it.

…

She spent the following three days with Severus, and when she would finally return to 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius said, he would give her another present, this time completely legal and practical. Aya laughed amused, but looked forward to it nonetheless.

The time she spent with Severus was significantly more relaxing and far less hectic. He surprised her when he took her to a muggle water park. However, she would have appreciated a warning beforehand because she hadn’t packed any swimsuit with her and also had a lot of hair on her, and she couldn’t show her rainforest legs and armpit bushes to other people.

Once she was in a presentable state, and they were at the water park, Severus transfigured her clothes into a one-piece bathing suit. She swam for a bit, and even convinced Severus to do a joint rubber tyre slide with her, but spent most of their visit in a Jacuzzi together with Severus, letting the bubbles knead all the exhaustion from the past month out of her aching muscles and joints.

“Next time,” she murmured, “we should come with Sirius. I think he would like it.”

Severus only grunted in response. He might not be enthusiastic about it, but if it would make Aya happy to have them both there, he could learn to tolerate Black’s presence.

After the water park, they ate at a restaurant and even got some ice cream as they slowly walked around the city centre.

Overall, Aya was happy and she was already looking forward to another day like this with both Severus and Sirius. When she returned to 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius greeted her with a giant package, which turned out to be a cage and within it an intelligent looking snowy owl.

Aya fell in love with it and its white fathers and piercing amber eyes. She called her Athena, because owls were supposed to be one of the symbols of the Greek goddess of War and Wisdom.

…

On August 4th, she finally managed to sneak out. After looking up the transport connection to Little Hangleton, she took enough muggle money for a two-way trip to Little Hangleton by bus, a sandwich, a couple of water bottles, her trusty Android with the GPS, a small plastic bag, a pair of gloves that doctors wore, a surgical mask, a pocketknife, and tweezers.

When she arrived at her destination, she pricked her thumb and smeared the blood over the locket. In a matter of seconds, Marvolo materialised beside her.

“Now that I’m in Little Hangleton,” she started, “what next?”

He looked around the town, confused. “I barely recognise this place.”

“Well you better start remembering, because I have no clue where to go and you’re my only lead,” whispered Aya through her teeth.

He looked around some more, until he spotted what he was looking for. “There,” he leaned closer to her and pointed towards a distant hill with a house on top, “that’s the Riddle House and close by at the foot of the hill is the Gaunt Shack.”

She started moving towards it. As they drew nearer, there were barely any people around. Passing by the local cemetery and church, she spotted a wooden door with a snake nailed to it, hidden among the branches and tree trunks.

“This is it,” announced Marvolo at her side.

She took out the mask and gloves and put them on. Slowly, she opened the door, but as soon as she entered, stale air and dust assaulted her together with some weird pressure that was trying to constrict her windpipe and crush her lungs.

“My apologies,” murmured Marvolo apologetically, “it’s the protective enchantments I placed around the Shack. I’ll take care of it immediately; if you could just place a few more drops of your blood on the locket.” She did as told and as soon as she did it, the locket began to vibrate and glow until it enveloped her in a golden light.

Almost immediately, Aya felt significantly lighter and found it much easier to breathe. “Thank you,” she whizzed, breathing deeply and with a hand over her chest.

Following Marvolo’s instruction, she managed to locate the loose floorboard. She lifted it with the pocketknife and stumbled upon a golden box. Carefully, she lifted it and placed it on the floor beside her.

“Is it safe to open?” she questioned glancing at Marvolo.

“The box is,” answered Marvolo, “but the ring isn’t.” At her silent question, he elaborated further. “I have placed a fatal curse on it that would activate when someone touched it or tried to put it on.”

At her horrified look, he added, “As long as you don’t let it touch your skin, you should be fine.”

She slowly exhaled and carefully lifted the lid. Then, she took out the plastic bag and tweezers and transferred the ring to the bag, closed it, then tucked it away in a separate rucksack pocket.

She heaved a sigh of relief when she finished, then took off the mask and gloves and went towards the bus stop.

…

Back home, she placed the cursed ring between the pages of Tom’s journal together with the locket. As soon as she closed the book, it started to heat up and vibrate. She let Tom and Marvolo do their work removing the curse while she went to take a shower.

By the time she returned, the journal stopped vibrating and was cold again. She opened it and saw Tom’s note. ‘ _Curse successfully removed. Safe to touch._ ’

She wrote back. “Good work. I will talk to all three of you in the night.” She unclasped the locket’s chain and slid the ring on it, then clasped it again and put it around her neck.

As promised, she fell asleep with the journal over her chest, covering both the locket and ring.

As she materialised, the sight of three almost identical looking men greeted her.

“So,” the middle one spoke, assessing her. “You’re the one who got me out of the shack?”

“Uh, yes.”

He closed the distance between them and studied her like a scientist … or at least it felt that way to her. His investigative and thoughtful stare travelled over her form in all directions.

“I’m Aya,” she offered to break the silence.

“I know,” returned the ring. “Tom and Marvolo told me.” He continued with his inspection. What exactly he was looking for was beyond her, so she simply let him do his thing.

“So … what should I call you?”

He thought for a while. “Gaunt,” he said. “Since I’m already residing in the Gaunt Family heirloom, why not take its name,” reasoned the ring.

“Good point,” agreed Aya.

Gaunt finally finished his inspection and turned to Tom and Marvolo. “Are you certain she’s one of us?”

“We’re not one hundred percent certain, but we have a feeling she is like us,” answered Tom carefully.

Aya was confused. “One of you? … As in … a horcrux?”

Tom and Marvolo looked conflicted.

“I didn’t want to say anything since I don’t have any proof,” ventured Tom, “but for quite some time now I’ve felt that you bare a presence similar to Marvolo’s and now Gaunt’s as well.”

Her … a horcrux? “And how do we confirm your theory, Tom?” inquired Aya. “I mean, is there even a way to know for sure?”

Tom looked thoughtful. “Well … there might be, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”

“As long as it doesn’t require me to hurt myself beyond pricking my thumb, I think I’m ready to try it.”

Tom chuckled. “It’s nothing like that, but I also don’t know whether it will cause you any harm.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tom, just tell me what you have in mind,” said Aya impatiently.

“You know how your conscience is able to materialise in the journal together with the rest of us?”

She narrowed her eyes in thought. “Aha …”

“Well, what if the reverse is possible?” Tom was getting excited now. “Imagine us materialising inside of your mind, your essence.”

“You mean my landscape?”

“Exactly,” there was a mad scientist glint in Tom’s eyes.

“And how would that prove I’m a horcrux?”

“Once in your being, we could look for signs of a physical manifestation of Voldemort inside of you.”

Everything clicked in Aya’s head. “Tom, that’s a wonderful idea.”

“I know,” he said smugly.

“What do we do?”

“Well … I suppose it would resemble some kind of possession, because you would have to let us enter you.”

Aya’s eyes widened in shock.

“Not like that, you idiot,” he hissed frustrated. “There’s nothing sexual about this, I promise.”

“If you say so,” returned Aya, wary.

“Anyway,” continued Tom, “instead of me pulling you inside the journal, to make the reverse possible I have to push myself into you. When you feel the intrusion, don’t panic, just relax and the rest should work like a Swiss watch.”

“Okay,” she nodded carefully, “but what you just described sounded a lot like a sex scene from a romance novel.”

Tom glared at her.

…

She closed her eyes and concentrated on herself. It is as if you were meditating, said Tom. She had heard of it of course, but she never tried it herself before.

She felt an uncomfortable pressure in her chest, as if something was trying to lodge itself there. She tried to follow Tom’s instructions and relax. Soon the uncomfortable feeling passed and she thought she heard water rushing around her.

When she opened her eyes, her jaw almost dropped to the floor. She was standing in the middle of a scenery where everything was made of sweets. There was a rainbow coloured milkshake waterfall surrounded by pools of chocolate Jacuzzi. Instead of flowers, there were lollipops and candy canes, and instead of trees, there were ice cream cones filled with different kinds of ice cream. The clouds and bushes were made of cotton candy and the sun was a giant fluorescent yellow jawbreaker. She could also spot a few chocolate bunnies, cinnamon-roll snails and cotton candy sheep.

“This … is my essence?” she breathed astonished. She looked around, and as she spun, she came face to face with squinting and naked Tom, Marvolo and Gaunt. Well … they would be completely naked if the glow from between their thighs wouldn’t be obstructing the view.

She burst out laughing. “Oh my shit,” she whizzed, clutching her stomach. “Is that the famous anime style censorship?” She continued to laugh, but they didn’t find it amusing at all. “This brings a whole new meaning to golden balls.”

“You should see yourself then,” commented Marvolo dryly, shielding his eyes.

She looked down and was immediately blinded by the same kind of glow. “Ugh, my eyes!” she complained, covering them.

Slowly, she peeked through her fingers and noticed that she was glowing from her neck to toes. Amazed, she admired her glowing form and when she touched herself, she could feel she was completely naked as well.

“Well … now I can definitely say that I’m shining bright like a diamond.”

“Don’t start with your muggle music references,” deadpanned Tom. “Let’s focus on why we came here in the first place.”

Aya pouted. “Fine,” she huffed. A moment later, she heard faint humming.

She frowned in concentration. “Do you hear something?”

Tom, Marvolo, and Gaunt looked confused.

She started to move towards one of the cotton candy bushes covered in sprinkles. Tom, Marvolo, and Gaunt followed closely behind her. As they neared the bush, Tom, Marvolo, and Gaunt also heard the humming. Carefully, she parted the candy bush and there, in a chocolate Jacuzzi, was a bald, middle-aged looking man using buttercream as a facial mask.

She stared transfixed at the man, as did Tom, Marvolo, and Gaunt.

“Is this supposed to be Voldemort?” whispered Aya.

All three of the horcruxes were speechless.

The man carefully opened one red eye. “How may I help you?”

Aya was startled out of her daze. “I’m Aya and apparently your host.”

“Are you really?” he asked with genuine wonder in his voice. “Well I’m Tom Marvolo Riddle, although by the time I arrived here everyone knew me as the Dark Lord Voldemort. I’m absolutely delighted to meet your acquaintance.” He shook her hand, covering her in warm chocolate in the process.

“Likewise.”

“I never expected to end in this place,” continued the man, “but I must say that I’m glad I did because I have never felt so relaxed, happy, and at peace in my entire life.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” she replied with a polite smile, before leaning towards the trio. “Just how old is he supposed to be?” she whispered.

“Well if you subtract 1946 from 2001 you get 55, but since we were born in December and he was created in October, that leaves him at 54 years of age,” provided Tom helpfully.

“My dear,” she turned her attention towards the man, “would you be so kind and catch a cotton candy sheep for me. I’m craving one right now, but I don’t want to disrupt my daily chocolate bath to catch one myself.”

She stared blankly at him. “Of course,” she breathed.

He smiled. “I am in your debt.”

She turned and led Tom, Marvolo, and Gaunt away with her. “If he’s supposed to be 54, why does he sound like he’s a hundred?”

They didn’t know how to answer that question, so they simply shrugged. She huffed.

“Well, now I at least know why I sometimes feel much older than I actually am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so technically speaking, there were three new horcruxes introduced in this chapter (with Aya being the third one), but locket and ring were the two new additions to Aya's horcrux party.
> 
> So those who said locket were correct in your assumptions (julietmonells, Rosanna, Sinyale, Rina01, and Chrissss). Unfortunately the diadem will make an appearance in chapter 17. The Cup will appear in the sequel that I'm currently writing. (Not really a spoiler) But Aya did make a field trip to Little Hangleton to retrieve the ring. So those who speculated this you were right again :3 (Chrissss - even though you ultimately went for the diadem, and julietmonells) and Rosanna, I have to give you kudos on the fact that Aya was revealed to be a horcrux, so you're second guess was right as well. :)
> 
> Unfortunately there was no Voldemort in this chapter (unless you count his soul piece in Aya who's the closest to the present Voldemort), but in the next chapter Aya and Voldemort finally interact again after almost two and a half years, and Aya will finish the first semester of her fourth year at Hogwarts. :)
> 
> I can't believe this part is already past the middle with 10 chapters to go. Thank you for your continued support and I hope you stick around till the end :3 Especially if you like the tone of the story and my style of writing. :)


	12. Fourth Year: Of Trials and Hidden Chambers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Aya expands her group of friends by adding three more people to it, and her main goal for the school year is to concentrate on school as well as getting adopted by Severus and Sirius. She also finally hears from Voldemort after a long silence on his part, and Tom, Marvolo, and Gaunt give her a Christmas gift. :3

On August 7th, she met with her friends in Diagon Alley where she spent another girls-only day with them shopping, eating, drinking and conversing, although Fred and George tried to join them, but Aya playfully shooed them away.

When one is buying school supplies, one always ends up talking about summer homework and the upcoming school year. Therefore, when Aya’s friends brought up homework, Aya seemed to be the only one who had barely touched it. But she wasn’t worried, she would do it in the last two weeks of August. However, until then, she was going to enjoy her new house and play the shit out of the videogames she purchased on Steam.

…

When the new school year started, Aya had a good feeling about it. It was true that the Ministry still hadn’t decided on a date for Sirius’ trial, but for whatever reason she wasn’t worried about it. Because of the uncertain date, she would also have to wait for the adoption process to start, but she was confident that she would become a Potter-Snape-Black by the end of her fourth year.

As far as the classes were concerned, this year would be a good practice year before the O.W.Ls next year, something the teachers made very clear in their opening lectures and the amount of assignments they were promising. Luckily, they could work with a partner for select projects, so that was nice. As for the electives, Aya, Hermione, Susan, and Hannah decided to continue all three from the year before, because the curriculum looked promising if the introductory lesson in Ancient Runes was anything to go by.

The professor explained that since translation and recognition of runes formed a significant portion of the O.W.L. examination, in addition to learning new runes, they would practice translating different types of texts from ancient runes to English and vice versa throughout the year as well as have weekly tests where they would have to recognise randomly selected runes from the list of the runes they’ve already learned.

Both the translations and tests would form part of their final grade in conjunction with the written and oral exam. In the written exam, they would be required to translate a few individual sentences, provide the rune for a certain meaning and choose the correct interpretation of selected runes, and for their oral exam, they would get a list of about 20 runes either to provide the meaning or the rune for a certain context or pronunciation.

Since it was only their second year of studies and translation was a demanding discipline, the professor saw it fit to divide them into two groups of five. Throughout the year, the group would work together on translating texts both ways.

The professor gave them a couple of minutes to form the groups and luckily, Aya’s group only needed one more member. She looked around the classroom and noticed a blonde girl in Slytherin robes sitting alone in the back of the classroom.

She slid next to her. “Say … would you like to join our group?”

The girl looked at the other group where there were already five, and she was the only one who still didn’t form part of one. “It’s not like I have much choice,” she sighed.

Aya beamed. “Excellent! Oh, I’m Aya Potter by the way.” She offered her a handshake.

The girl looked haughtily at the offered hand, but shook it nonetheless. “Daphne Greengrass,” she offered politely.

“Nice to meet you, Daphne,” she smiled. “Come, sit with us,” she beckoned her enthusiastically.

Daphne let out a resigned sigh, started collecting her belongings and transferred closer to her new group. They briefly introduced themselves to each other, before the teacher clapped to get their attention.

“I see you’ve all managed to form groups, excellent,” she said satisfied. “Now, both groups will get a five-page text, making that a page per student, in Ancient runes and it will be your job to translate it into English.”

She gave each group a copy.

“Since this is your first experience with translating longer texts, you will have exactly one month to hand in your translations. As you hand in your translations, I want you to indicate which student translated which page so that I’ll be able to grade it properly,” the professor informed them.

“Last year we have learned how to look up runes in the dictionary and the structure of each rune entry, now I want you to pay attention to the syntax, coherence and cohesiveness of the translated text while still retaining the meaning of the original,” she elaborated. “Because of that, I want you to take your time to study the source text before you decide to translate it word for word stringing them together without any grammatical sense. For demonstration and practice, we’ll translate a two-page short story suited for beginners together in class.”

With a wave of her wand, students had copies in front of them. “I hope you have either parchment or muggle notebooks to write in, as well as your rune dictionaries,” she said.

Rustling of the paper filled the classroom as the students prepared parchment scrolls or notebooks, and quills or pens.

“First, we’ll read the text together and explain any unknown runes as we go, so it might take us a while to get through, but don’t worry, you can then apply the same techniques and procedures in your assignments throughout the year and your final exams.”

…

“So …” began Aya thoughtfully after the bell rang and they were gathering their things, “how are we going to go about this?”

The rest of the group exchanged looks and shrugged.

“Well, if you don’t mind my input,” said Daphne, “we should probably decide who is going to translate what page first.”

“Good thinking,” agreed Hermione.

“Should we have like a group meeting in the library for that and the first reading, or do we do this individually?” Aya wondered.

Susan sighed. “Aya, the whole point of group work is to cooperate and work together. Even if everyone has to translate a page by themselves, the professor never said we couldn’t help each other if we encounter problems or doubts during the translation process.”

“Then what? Do we set a meeting time and place to get started?”

“We could do that,” said Hannah, “just not today,” she added. “Maybe tomorrow or the day after.”

“Okay,” agreed Aya. “And the time?”

“After classes would make the most sense,” said Hermione.

“True,” agreed Aya. “We already know our schedules,” she turned to the Slytherin girl, “but we don’t know yours, Daphne.”

“I’m free after four tomorrow and the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay, that’s the same as us,” exclaimed Aya enthusiastically, “so, if we set the time for half past four on Friday, potentially all of us can come to the library?”

The rest of them nodded.

“Great,” said Aya happily. “Friday, 16:30, it is then.”

…

After their joint Herbology lesson on Friday afternoon, Aya, Hermione, Susan, and Hannah hurried to the castle and to their respective dorms for Aya to get rid of her Herbology suit and to get everything for Ancient Runes project.

As Susan, Aya, and Hannah were leaving the dungeon, they spotted Daphne coming out of the Slytherin common room with someone else.

“Daphne!” Aya yelled, waving and smiling as she approached her, with Susan and Hannah closely behind. “Perfect timing,” she greeted her.

“So it would seem,” commented Daphne with dignified grace, while her companion hid behind her.

“And who’s your companion?” questioned Aya curiously, trying to get a better look at the girl.

“This is my younger sister Astoria,” Daphne introduced her with a hand on her back. “She wanted to come; I hope you don’t mind her company.”

“Of course she can come,” huffed Aya. “Hello, Astoria,” she bent down to meet her eye level, “I’m Aya, and these,” she gestured to her friends, “are Susan and Hannah.”

Susan and Hannah both waved with kind smiles.

“And once we get to the library, you’ll meet Hermione as well,” she added.

Astoria nodded while pressing her thumb knuckle to her lips. She was still clutching her sister’s uniform.

“She’ll do her own thing once we’re in the library, she just wants to be with me now that it’s Friday.” As Daphne spoke, she was gently combing her sister’s hair with her fingers.

“It’s understandable,” said Aya. “Shall we?” she gestured towards the dungeon exit.

The rest of the girls followed her.

As they made their way towards the library, Aya was trying to strike up a conversation with Astoria, while Daphne’s little sister was answering with as few syllables as possible.

“So, Astoria … how has your Hogwarts experience been so far?”

She shrugged. “Okay, I guess,” she spoke in a small voice.

For some reason, Aya was reminded of a hamster. A cute and adorable hamster. She had to refrain herself from squealing and cooing over her classmate’s little sister.

“You’re not having any trouble with school work or other students?”

“No.”

“Well, if you ever have problems, you can always come to your sister or one of us,” said Aya, “We are your _senpai_ after all.” There was pride in her voice over that fact. “It is our duty as _senpai_ to aid our dear _kōhai_ in need.”

Astoria looked confused. “What’s a _senpai_?”

“That’s a Japanese expression for an upperclassman,” explained Aya. “And Susan, Hannah, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and I are all your senpai,” she said. “And you, my dear Astoria,” she placed an arm around her shoulder, “are our cute, little _kōhai_ , or underclassman, who we are bound by our honour to protect against the forces of tedious academic problems and other people’s evil intentions,” she concluded dramatically.

Her friends and Astoria wore confused expressions and Daphne simply sent a deadpan look Aya’s way.

…

By the end of September, Daphne and Astoria became part of Aya’s group of friends, so it became a regular occurrence for her to appear at the Slytherin table for breakfast, lunch or dinner, usually with Astoria sitting in her lap as she gently rocked her or smoothed her hair, sometimes alone and sometimes accompanied by the rest of her friends.

Daphne and Astoria, who was still mostly shy but became more comfortable and outspoken in Aya’s company, didn’t seem to mind this, but the rest of their housemates were either confused or bothered by it.

Those brave enough tried to scare Aya and her friends away, but Aya simply ignored them or acted as if they were invisible. If they persisted, she purposefully started talking about Severus Snape wanting to adopt her and Sirius Black being her godfather in a loud and clear voice. This seemed to work wonders, because from that point on, no one had a single thing to say over her and her friends’ presence at the Slytherin table.

…

At the beginning of October, during one of Aya’s regular visits to Severus’ office, she noticed that Severus was feeling overwhelmed by something or someone.

“What’s wrong, Severus?”

He sighed, slumping in his chair and pinching his nose in frustration. “It’s Longbottom,” he grunted.

“What happened?”

“You mean what _hasn’t_ happened with the brat?” snorted Severus derisively. “Because that kid is a walking disaster. I don’t know how well or bad he’s doing in other subjects, but when it comes to _Potions_ the brat is hopeless.”

“Not everyone can be a Potions genius like you, Severus,” she reminded him.

“I know that,” he sighed in exasperation, “but in all three years that I’ve been teaching him, he’s been barely able to brew a handful of potions without melting or exploding the cauldron.” He leaned forward, holding his head. “I already lost count of all the cauldrons he’s destroyed and how many ingredients he’s butchered and wasted.” He suddenly looked up at her. “Do you know just how valuable and expensive Potions ingredients are? And let’s not talk about the hazard he presents to himself and others with his abysmal performance in class.”

“That sounds rough,” Aya sympathised with him.

Another sigh escaped him.

“I don’t know what to do with him,” he said with finality. “You know I’m not the most patient person to begin with, but when it comes to Longbottom … I swear, that brat is testing the limits of my sanity.”

She started making comforting circles on his back, while trying to think of a solution.

“What if I helped him?” she finally suggested. Because why not? It couldn’t hurt to try and see why he was so bad at Potions, when he excelled in Herbology if the knowledge and understanding of plants he displayed during their joint Herbology lessons was any indication.

Severus looked both sceptical and hopeful at the same time. “You would?”

“Of course I would,” huffed Aya. “But I can’t guarantee any miracles. Because Neville sounds like a lot of work … but then again, I do like a good challenge.”

“Well … if he stops botching up potions and destroying cauldrons with your help, my sanity will be forever grateful to you.”

…

The next day, she sought Neville out by approaching him at the Gryffindor table for lunch. “Mind if I join you?” she asked him.

“N-Not at all,” he stammered nervously.

She squeezed between him and Hermione. After briefly greeting and hugging her and Ginny, she focussed on Neville again. “So … Neville,” she began all business-like, “I know we have barely interacted with each other in the past three years, but I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be struggling with Potions.”

He shuddered and paled at the mention of Potions.

“If you’re willing, I could help you with the subject,” she said. “I do pride myself on knowing Severus and his standards, after all I do spend quite a lot of time with him and if everything goes according to plan, I will have the honour to call him father by the end of this school year.”

Neville and his year mates who were in the eavesdropping vicinity looked gobsmacked.

“I-I appreciate it, Aya, but I think I’m a hopeless case,” he stammered, avoiding eye contact. “I will n-never be good or even decent in Potions.”

Aya sighed. She already knew Neville’s biggest problem; he was too pessimistic and lacked any sort of confidence in himself and his skills.

‘Alright, Aya,’ she said to herself, ‘it’s time to turn on your therapist persona.’

“Nonsense, Neville,” she said dismissively. “You’ll see that by the time I’m done tutoring you, you will be a completely different person.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he agreed to the Potions tutoring sessions twice a week.

…

Since Neville’s problems were of psychological nature, she first had to assess the extent of their impact on Neville’s academic performance and social interaction.

“So … Neville,” she began, “before we start discussing Potions, their uses and preparation processes, I think we should get to know each other first.”

He gulped. “Okay …” he agreed, not really comprehending what the purpose of that would be.

“Don’t worry, we’ll talk about Potions,” she assured him, “but I think that your problem isn’t the Potions itself, but something else. As I said yesterday, I barely know you, but from the couple of interactions that I had with you, I got the impression that you are not particularly comfortable in your own skin.”

He started to fidget uncomfortably.

“Potions might seem like the source of the problem, but I think that your lacklustre performance in the subject is merely an overt manifestation of some internal problems that you might have. For that reason, I need to have a better insight into who you are, what’s your family life like … that sort of thing.”

He took a couple of deep breathes, then nodded and began narrating.

“I’m Neville Longbottom, son of the Aurors Alice and Frank Longbottom. When I was a baby, a group of Death Eaters came to our house and tortured my parents to insanity. They have been hospitalised at St. Mungo’s ever since with no hope of ever recovering. Because my parents were unable to raise me, my grandmother, my father’s mother, Augusta Longbottom took me in and raised me. As a child, I didn’t show signs of accidental magic, so the rest of my relatives saw it fit to bring it out of me by putting me in life-threatening situations.”

He reached for his wand.

“When I was old enough for Hogwarts, I inherited my father’s wand, but I always felt off using it. I thought it would get better over time, but it seems like it is only getting worse.”

He looked at her.

“You’re right Aya, I’m not happy with myself. I’m not comfortable in my own skin. I never was. My family expects great things from me, but I keep failing them. I will never be able to live up to my parents’ reputation.”

She took out her pocket mirror and enlarged it to make it full-body. Then she hung it on the wall, dragged Neville in front of it and asked him, “Take a good look at the mirror, Neville, and tell me; what do you see?” with hands on his shoulders.

“I see an ugly, fat, worthless nobody, who will never amount to anything in life.” His voice cracked. “A nobody who will always be a failure.”

She furrowed her brow in determination. “Do you want to know what I see, Neville?”

“Not really,” he sniffed.

“Well I’m going to tell you anyway,” said Aya. “I see someone with the potential to be great,” she said emphatically, looking at his reflection, “but is too busy wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing to realise their potential.”

Tears welled in Neville’s eyes and he began to wipe his eyes with the sleeves.

“You can be anything you want to be,” continued Aya softly. “You can be an amazing wizard. You just have to put your mind to it and change the way you think and perceive yourself and your surroundings.”

He continued to sniff and cry, but managed to nod, showing that he was listening to her words.

“Of course, the change won’t happen overnight, we can already establish that,” said Aya. “But believe me when I say that when you will stop belittling yourself and instead start loving and believing in yourself and your abilities, the change will be visible in the way you carry yourself, the way people see you, the way you interact with others, your academic performance ... It’s a process. So if you don’t see the expected results in two weeks’ time, don’t get discouraged.”

He nodded, looking much calmer.

“You’ll probably have to get another wand, but a wand can only get you so far, that’s why this tutoring sessions will not only help you with Potions, but also building your self-confidence. Is that okay with you?”

He nodded. She smiled, gave his shoulders a little squeeze then returned her mirror to its original size and pocketed it again. They returned to the table.

“Okay,” breathed Aya, clearing her throat. “For our first session, I will describe a couple of situations to you, and I would like you to tell me how you would react in those situations.”

He furrowed his brow. “Okay.”

“First situation: You are in a Potions lesson. You are brewing a very complex potion and Professor Snape is watching you like a hawk. What do you do: focus on Snape or the potion?”

“Snape.”

“No, wrong,” she said harshly and he winced. “I know Severus has a strong and hard-to-ignore presence,” she added in a softer tone, “but even if you have Snape breathing down your neck, you NEVER take your attention off the potion, because if Snape is right about something is that Potions is a very exact discipline where even the minor mistake could make the potion explode, fatal, or completely ineffective.”

As she was explaining, she was waving her hands around for emphasis.

“So, Neville,” she said pinning him with a serious look, “from now on, I want you to try to ignore Professor Snape’s presence whenever you’re brewing a potion. Act like he isn’t even in the room for that matter.”

“I will try,” he answered in a small voice, hunching his shoulders.

“Good,” she nodded satisfied. “And don’t hunch,” she drew his shoulders back and pressed a knee into the middle of his back to make him straighter. “Rule number one, apart from ignoring Snape from now on during the brewing process, is: pay attention to your posture. Don’t hunch,” she instructed him. “Keep your back nice and straight. If you are tall and open instead of hunched and closed, you will at least appear more confident than you might actually feel.”

He nodded, sitting upright on his own.

“But don’t overdo it, because then you’re just going to look stiff and uncomfortable. You have to find a balance.”

He relaxed his shoulders a bit, but kept his back straight.

Nodding satisfied, she continued with what they were doing before. “Next situation: You mess up a potion. How do you react: panic or keep a cool head?”

“Panic.”

“Wrong again,” burst Aya. “You step away from the mess, wait for the professor to clean it up and then you analyse where you went wrong, you remember the mistake and you learn from it, so that next time you will avoid making it again,” she patiently instructed him.

“There’s a muggle expression for that: learn from your mistakes. No one wants to fail, but when you do fail, it’s important how you deal with it: Do you let it get to you or do you take it as a stepping stone to better yourself?” She levelled him with an intense look that made him sweat. “We both know what our attitude should be, right?”

He gulped and nodded.

“Good.” She beamed at him. “From now on, you will try to remain cool-headed even when you make a mistake in Potions, or any other class for that matter. Then try to assess the situation and don’t let the mistake depress you, because otherwise we will never achieve our purpose to make you more positive and more confident. Look, I’m not saying that you absolutely can’t feel sad or lose your shit from time to time, but you should like, let it out, and then move on. Don’t dwell on it because then it festers and it’s not good for you.”

She tapped her chin in thought. “What else? … Ah! Tell me how do you feel about Potions and Professor Snape in general?”

Neville seemed lost for words. Not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he didn’t know where to begin.

“Well … Every lesson makes me extremely nervous even before we start,” he narrated, “and then whenever Professor Snape looks at me I start feeling even more nervous. It’s not that I don’t like him, but … he reminds me of my grandmother … and by the time we have to brew something, I’m so nervous my hands tremble and I can’t even prepare the ingredients properly. I start misreading labels and instructions, and sometimes, I forget which steps I’ve already done so I either end up mixing, repeating or skipping them.”

When he finished talking, Aya was certain that the priority would be to get his nerves under control.

“Don’t worry, Neville, you’re not the only one Professor Snape makes nervous, and yes, he’s not the most tolerant and understanding person and teacher, but I suppose there is some logic behind the way he treats the students as he does.”

She placed a hand on her chest. “From my humble perspective, it looks as if he is doing a selection process since the very beginning by throwing us into sink or swim situations to ‘ _find the wolves among the sheep_ ’ so to speak. In other words, he wants to see who will give up and who will prevail. A judge of character if you will. He could, of course, spoon-feed us all the information and handhold us through all the brewing, but would we benefit from it? Maybe it would have been fine in our first year, but by the second year, we would have probably begun to expect the same kind of treatment to continue.”

Neville looked sceptical about that explanation, but he supposed there was also a grain of truth deep within it.

“I know you won’t start seeing Snape in a different light immediately,” said Aya gently. “But keep in mind that he doesn’t have to affect you like he does.”

“And how do I do that?” he asked.

“Try to keep your nerves under control,” she said simply. “There are a few different breathing techniques that can help you relieve stress, increase focus and calm your nervous system, but we’ll keep it nice, simple and easy and we’ll add more techniques and strategies as we go, okay?”

He nodded.

“Okay, the first breathing technique is called ‘Equal Breathing’,” she explained. “Place your hands on your legs, then inhale for a count of four through the nose, and then you exhale for a count of four through your nose again. You can close your eyes if it helps you block out the surroundings.”

She demonstrated and he followed. They repeated the exercise a few times.

“How do you feel, Neville?” she asked him gently, when they were finished.

He slowly opened his eyes. “Better,” he replied smiling. “Calmer.”

…

For their second session, Aya introduced meditation to Neville as a way to reduce stress and anxiety and increase attention and awareness. For meditation to have long-lasting health beneficial effects on Neville, he would have to practice it every day for at least twenty minutes, before the start of each day, including weekends.

After meditation, she introduced Neville to yoga as a possible venue to achieve liberation and control over the body and the mind. Like meditation, he would also need to practice yoga periodically, maybe not every day, although going through the movements of Sun Salutation in conjunction with his morning meditation routine wouldn’t do him any harm.

They went through the moves a few times, and agreed to do one cycle at the beginning of each subsequent tutoring session, until Neville was confident enough in the order of the moves.

In mid-October, after she introduced several other breathing techniques and they did some actual Potions schoolwork, Aya thought it would be fun to mix it up a bit.

She took Neville to a deserted spot near the Black Lake, and said, “Today I thought we should yell,” with a straight face. Neville wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“A few days back, I read an article about the benefits of screaming,” she explained. “I think it was called Primal therapy or something like that, and it says that screaming allows us to face our repressed emotions from past trauma and let those emotions go. And I thought we could try and see if we will feel better after screaming our lungs out.”

Given that both she and Neville didn’t have the most idyllic childhoods, Neville especially, it couldn’t hurt to try a more primitive approach.

“Think of all the hurt and pain you felt over the years without your parents and all the mistreatment of your grandmother and relatives, then, when you feel like you can’t handle the emotions any more, let them out in a scream.”

Neville did as instructed, but the result wasn’t nearly as powerful as Aya would have imagined.

“You call that a scream?” she asked in disbelief. “Do it again,” she ordered him. “This time, it has to come from your _gut_ , dammit. You have to _feel_ the scream with your entire body. And make it last as long as you can.”

Neville inhaled deep … then let it all out. A few seconds in, she joined him and, apparently, they were so loud, people at the castle heard them.

Some of the students and professors hurried to where they were, thinking someone was being murdered or skinned, but when they arrived they only encountered them, screaming at the top of their lungs. Professor McGonagall deducted five points from both of them on the grounds of disrupting public peace and causing needless worry among the students and professors.

Both Neville and Aya agreed that screaming made them feel lighter, but would abstain from doing it in the future, unless they used a silencing charm to do it.

By the end of October, Neville looked better than he ever did.

He looked much more at peace and comfortable with himself, and there was a calming aura around him. His posture improved; now he appeared taller and slimmer than he did before. His skin looked bright and healthy and the look in his eyes was clear and full of life. There were still occasions where he would let nerves get the better of him, but those instances were rare, and his performance in all subjects improved greatly. Of course, some of the credit went to Neville’s brand new wand, but most of the improvements were due to Neville’s rise in confidence and change in mentality, and nothing would convince Aya otherwise. Of course, Neville’s improvements were still a work-in-progress, but the bases were there to build upon them.

Neville’s housemates couldn’t believe it and most of the professors who knew Neville couldn’t quite grasp what was happening either. Aya could only laugh at their reactions and feel immensely proud of Neville. She might have given him the tools, but Neville’s constant implementation of those tools reaped the present results. She could only hope he would keep up the good work.

It wasn’t until mid-November that Aya knew the change in Neville would become permanent, when he came to her after his career orientation meeting with Professor McGonagall and told her he would find a way to cure his parents.

“I don’t care how many years it takes before I develop it,” he said with confidence and determination, “I will use my Herbology knowledge and Professor Snape’s Potions skills to make it … because it is as you said. If others are too incompetent to cure them, then I should do it myself. It won’t return me the years I’ve lost with them, but we would finally be able to be a family.”

…

Other than Neville becoming the first and only male member of Aya’s friend group and their first trip to Hogsmeade as a group on November 1st, nothing extraordinary happened until the beginning of December.

It all started with Amelia’s letter summoning them to her office, where she explained how she came to work the day before, and encountered an unconscious and magically restrained Peter Pettigrew in her office.

Aya, Severus and Sirius were flabbergasted. It was clear someone helped capture Pettigrew, but the question no one had the answer to was who. They tried questioning Pettigrew, but whoever captured him made sure Pettigrew was unable to reveal any information about them. And not knowing was killing them.

With the culprit of the charges Sirius was accused of apprehended, the Wizengamot set up a date for his trial. It would happen on December 12th and since it fell on a school day, Aya was given exclusive permission to be absent from classes and attend the trial.

In the courtroom, Aya didn’t pay much attention to people around her, but she did notice Dumbledore’s presence. Why he always seemed involved in everything was beyond her, but she could say with certainty that it was grating on her nerves. However, as long as he didn’t interfere in her life, she supposed she could tolerate him.

Two hours after the session started, the Minister for Magic, who acted as a judge, declared Sirius Black innocent of all charges, while condemning Pettigrew to fifty years in Azkaban, issued a public apology for the great injustice and offered him a monetary compensation as well as consulting sessions with a mind healer.

“I don’t need a mind healer, because I’m already seeing a psychologist,” said Sirius, “but much appreciated anyway.”

Aya could barely contain herself and waited for the courtroom to be half-empty before running towards Sirius and jumping on him like a monkey. He laughed and twirled her around, while covering her in kisses. As he put her down, he turned to Severus with a playful smirk.

“And you, Severus,” he teased, “no _‘congratulations on becoming a free man’_?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Congratulations, Black,” he said curtly as he shook his hand.

Aya and Sirius shook hands with the Trangeles brothers and thanked them for everything in the months they acted as Sirius’ guards, and then left for 12 Grimmauld Place together with Severus, where they celebrated with water, but would pretend it was tequila, music and videogames.

…

As Aya entered her room, she noticed a letter on her bed. Immediately wary, she looked around to see if the window or closets were open, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

She carefully opened it. It read:

_Dear Miss Potter (although I hear you have plans of becoming a Potter-Snape-Black),_

_I know it has been almost three years since we last spoke and saw each other, but I have never forgotten your assistance with the Philosopher’s stone._

_I should first congratulate you on clearing your godfather’s name. You are probably wondering how I know that, well; let us say I made it possible by delivering Wormtail – Pettigrew – to Amelia Bones … and I have eyes and ears everywhere._

_I hope that with this I have repaid the debt I owed you. It might have taken me almost three years to find a suitable way to repay you, but at least now, it cannot be said that I do not know how to return favours or appreciate help from others._

_If our paths cross again in the future, I hope we will remain on friendly terms with each other._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Lord Voldemort_

Aya let out a baffled sigh just as a smile tugged on her lips and a warm feeling enveloped her chest. ‘Oh, Voldemort,’ she thought fondly, hugging the letter. It was nice to know he hadn’t forgotten about her … although she almost forgot about him. Who could blame her? With how quiet and inactive he’s been, no one could really blame her. But she was happy to hear from him nonetheless.

She ripped a page from a notebook and wrote a reply, which she would then send through her owl Athena.

_Dear Lord Voldemort,_

_I must say I was surprised to find your letter on the bed in my room at 12 Grimmauld Place (How did you know where to put it?), but happy to hear from you after such a long silence._

_I thank you for your congratulations as well as your assistance with speeding up my godfather’s trial. Now that he is free, he and Severus can now finally file the request for adoption and if there are no complications, I should become Aya Potter-Snape-Black (again, how did you hear about that?) before the school year is out._

_I am sure we will meet in the future, when exactly I don’t know, but when we do, you can be certain I will be your ally/friend and not your enemy (as long as you don’t attack me unnecessarily, because then I will react accordingly)._

_Because you are a Dark Lord with possible designs on world domination, I wish you all the best in your future endeavours._

_Soon-to-be Aya Potter-Snape-Black_

…

Two days later, she received the reply to her letter.

_My dear soon-to-be Aya Potter-Snape-Black (that was a handful to write, you’ll have to think of something shorter next time, because I refuse to write your full name in subsequent letters between us),_

_As I said, I have eyes and ears everywhere. You would do well to remember that. I know, for example, that you have spent the entire July refurbishing your godfather’s childhood home and that you went to an event with your friends to celebrate your birthday. I also know what you bought there and what your friends and future adoptive fathers gave you as well._

_Voldemort_

She looked around her dorm just to make sure Voldemort wasn’t watching her right now. She wrote back.

_Uh, Voldemort?_

_Should I be concerned about the fact that you’ve been spying on me? Because I don’t know whether to feel honoured or worried, for all I know, you might be watching me right this moment._

_You’re not watching me right now, are you?_

_..._

**I don’t know, Aya. You tell me. But I did tell you I was interested in seeing what you could become in a few years’ time because you intrigue me enough that I didn’t even try to kill you when I had the chance.**

**Don’t make me regret that decision.**

**(And no, I’m not watching you right now.)**

_Yeah, you did say that. Am I still intriguing?_

_And why would you say that? What could possibly make you regret letting me live? Did I do something?_

_..._

**Before August 4 th, you were seen holding and wearing a journal belonging to Tom Marvolo Riddle and Salazar Slytherin’s locket.**

**Then, on August 4 th, you took the muggle bus to Little Hangleton, entered a shack, and then, after a while, returned home. A day later, there was a ring on the locket’s chain as well.**

**So I ask you, Aya; what are you doing with three of my prized possessions?**

_Oh, you mean Tom (the journal), Marvolo (the locket), and Gaunt (the ring)? I have no evil intentions towards them, I promise. I only want to keep them company since they had to spend decades without anyone to talk to._

_By the way, they are sending their best regards to you and want to know if you made any more horcruxes after the locket and before me._

_Oh yeah, and by the way, apparently I’m also one of your horcruxes. I had the chance to meet him and, uh … interesting fellow I must say._

There was no reply from Voldemort until second semester.

…

As Christmas drew near, Tom, Marvolo, and Gaunt wanted to give her a Christmas present before she went home on the twenty-first.

“And you can’t give me the present on the actual holiday?” she inquired.

“No, we can’t,” said Tom, “because the gift is inside the castle … or rather under it.”

Aya looked baffled. Marvolo took over the explanation. “More than giving you a gift, we would like to show you a very important place to us.”

“Is it a secret?”

“Yes,” said Marvolo, “no one must know about it.”

“So I can’t even tell my friends?”

“Not even your friends.”

She sighed, disheartened. “I don’t like keeping secrets from my friends,” she complained. “It’s already taxing keeping your existence a secret from them, but luckily I’m busy thinking about other things when I’m with them.”

“Here we are,” announced Gaunt, when they arrived at the sink in the second floor girls’ bathroom. Aya looked around sceptically.

“You wanted to show me the toilet?” she inquired with a furrowed brow.

“Not the toilet,” grunted Gaunt. “The toilet is just the entrance. I mean the sink is, the one with a snake carved in the pipe,” he specified.

Aya started examining the indicated sink, but no matter how much she pressed and felt around for a button or some sort of mechanism, she couldn’t find anything.

“And how does this secret entrance supposedly open?”

“You have to say ‘open’ in parseltongue,” said Tom, but it didn’t mean anything to Aya. “Parseltongue is the ability to speak with snakes,” he elaborated.

Aya’s eyes widened. “And you think I can speak to snakes?” she questioned him sceptically.

All three of them kind of nodded.

“For your information, I have never met a snake up close,” she said. “The ones in the zoo don’t count because I was more interested in lions and tigers than reptiles. I only saw them from afar … I don’t do well with reptilians and insects,” she explained after a violent shiver shook her body at the thought of those kinds of animals.

“If she’s never spoken with a snake before,” said Marvolo, “how do we know whether she’s able to speak it?”

“Simple,” said Gaunt. “ _Aya, do you understand what I’m saying?_ ” he spoke in parseltongue.

Aya looked at him as if he asked her the most obvious question. “Of course I can understand you, why wouldn’t I understand you?”

“I just spoke in parseltongue,” he explained, but otherwise looked satisfied.

“Oh,” she breathed, blinking in surprise. “I didn’t notice. It sounded like English to me. You elongated the _s_ as if you were trying to hiss, but other than that it was nothing truly different to me.”

“Try to concentrate, _really_ concentrate, on how our mouths are moving when we talk in parseltongue,” suggested Marvolo.

“Or if it helps you, try to visualise a snake and try talking to it,” provided Tom.

Aya nodded and proceeded to listen to all three of the Horcruxes talk about how they were looking forward to seeing the chamber again and how they hoped she would like the present.

When she felt comfortable with their hissing sounds, she tried to contribute to the conversation and managed to hiss out, “ _Okay, I think I get it, now, can we please get to the good shit? I want to see what the hype is all about._ ”

“ _We will get to ‘the good shit’ as soon as you say ‘open’ and ‘stairs’_ ,” said Gaunt. “ _Unless you want to slide down, in that case you don’t have to add anything after ‘open’._ ”

She inhaled deeply and hissed, “ _Open._ ”

Luckily no one was nearby, not even the ghost of Moaning Myrtle. The sink with the snake sank into the floor, while the rest opened up to reveal a hole in the centre of their circular formation. She slid down the pipe and, as she landed on the stone ground, she let out a groan.

She picked herself up and dusted herself off, then tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness. “Just how am I supposed to enjoy my present if I can’t see shit?” she complained.

“You’ll get used to it,” said Gaunt dismissively. “We’re not even there yet.”

She walked slowly down the cramped, stale-aired corridor and was immediately reminded of Lara Croft. Was she going to discover someone’s tomb at the end of the corridor? A secret Temple? Ancient ruins? She was getting excited just thinking about it.

She soon reached a circular, metal door with several snakes on it. Her companions encouraged her to say ‘open’ again in parseltongue.

She did, and the snakes started to bend and retreat as another snake was going around the perimeter. Then, a click later, the door slowly swung open.

She climbed through and as she landed on the other side, she was left breathless and speechless at the magnificence of the structure before her. There was a large marble pathway lined with giant snake statues, and then at the end a massive bearded head made of stone acted like a wall.

She moved slowly towards one of the snake statues, admiring the sheer volume of it all. “This is amazing,” she breathed with an amazed smile. “Just how long has this been here? It looks ancient.”

“Salazar Slytherin built it while he was a professor at Hogwarts in The Middle Ages,” explained Tom.

“And what exactly is it? Some kind of tomb? A crypt? His personal shrine or temple?” she fired off the questions one by one. “I mean it looks like a perfect place to be Salazar’s final resting place.”

“It was his chamber,” said Marvolo. “He came here to escape the rest of the school when he felt overwhelmed by his co-founders or students, and since this was his secret place, it started to be referred to as the Chamber of Secrets.”

“I still think it would be a perfect place for his remains,” said Aya. “Say, what if we tracked down his remains and transferred them here?” she suggested unexpectedly. “You know we could make him a sarcophagus, and then set up an altar with his personal effects or other offerings. With how hated his name and his house have become in recent years there should be at least a piece of Hogwarts where he would feel respected.”

Tom, Marvolo, and Gaunt didn’t know how to respond to that. They supposed it was a good idea in theory, but in practice … it would take time and effort to locate his remains and … just how exactly would they know if they’ve found the right person’s skeleton?

She ran her fingers over the snake sculpture, admiring the details on it. “Do you think this was done by hand or with magic?”

All three exchanged looks as they shrugged. “How should we know?”

“Well if it is done with magic, do you think the statue would close its mouth if I put a finger inside its mouth?” elaborated Aya.

“We won’t be held responsible for any fingers you might lose, because you decided to stick your hands where you didn’t have to,” huffed Gaunt, raising his arms in a surrendering gesture.

“Oh, and let’s not forget about the basilisk,” added Marvolo as an afterthought.

“A basilisk?” Aya turned to them. “I’ve heard about it, but what exactly is a basilisk?”

“To put it simply, it’s a giant snake that can kill you if you look it directly in the eyes,” said Marvolo matter-of-factly.

Aya gaped at him. “Or petrify you if you look at the reflection of its eyes,” added Marvolo in an effort to calm her.

“And you couldn’t have told me about it sooner?” she whisper yelled. Then something clicked in her brain. “Wait, did you say _petrify_? Like how Mrs. Norris and the students were _petrified_ in my second year?”

Marvolo and Gaunt didn’t know what she was talking about, because they hadn’t met her yet. Tom, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to disappear.

“Tom …?” she prompted him, noticing his strange behaviour.

“Yes …?” he trailed, fidgeting with his fingers and avoiding eye contact.

“What are you not telling me?”

He gulped. “You know how you found me in the toilet in your second year after someone tried to dispose of me?”

She nodded, squinting. “Aha.”

“Well … the person who threw me into the toilet realised I was possessing her periodically to set the basilisk on the students and she wanted to get rid of me,” explained Tom, bracing himself.

“You idiot,” Aya admonished him and even swatted the back of his head. Not that the hit connected with his ghostly apparition, but he still flinched and yelped. “And you only saw it fit to tell me now?”

“I thought if you found out about it, you would get rid of me as well, or at the very least stopped talking and spending time with me,” explained Tom.

Aya’s face relaxed and simply shook her head. “Just how long have we known each other, Tom?” she asked him, hands on her hips.

“Almost two years.”

“And in all this time you still haven’t learnt how I am as a person?” she huffed.

Tom looked ashamed. She sighed. “You know I would have listened to your reasoning, but would still ended up telling you to stop whatever shit you were doing, and then continue to hang out with you … Well … At least no one died.”

He winced.

“Anyway, it’s in the past and I want to see what this Chamber of Secrets has to offer,” she said, determined. “We’ve already come all this way, it would be a waste not to explore it basilisk be damned. And if we do end up encountering it, now that we’ve established that I can talk to snakes and the basilisk is a giant snake, well, I’ll just talk to it with my eyes closed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some Aya x Voldemort interaction! It wasn't much, but there will be more to come in the next chapter. ;) 
> 
> As you saw, Aya's fourth year has been rather chill so far with her adding Daphne, Astoria and Neville to her friend group, as well as planning her adoption after Sirius is declared innocent. However, since she is the Girl-Who-Lived, people will make a lot of fuss about that -.-' So, in next chapter prepare yourselves for more #SavageAya and #AyaOnFire as well as some quality Christmas and New Year celebrations, and unconscious flirting between Aya and Voldemort xD
> 
> If your interested on Primal therapy/Screaming or breathing exercises, as well as the information I got on yoga and meditation you can look everything up on the internet, Wikipedia is a good source of information. :)
> 
> Thank you for all the support! And I hope you stay tuned for more. :3


	13. Fourth Year: Of Meddling Fools or How Aya Put Dumbledore & the Wizarding World in Their Place and Became a Potter-Snape-Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers the second semester of Aya's fourth year so in next chapter we will cover Aya's summer before fifth year as well as the first two months of her fifth year. This time I'm returning to the basic plot premise of the canon with the Triwizard Tournament but with my own spin of course. The tasks will remain the same in premise, but the point system and how everything gets solved will differ largely from the canon. I hope you're interested to see my take on the tournament as well as what happens between the tasks over the year. :)
> 
> But before that, enjoy Aya's savagery, but then again, I noticed that she has badass moments in pretty much every chapter following this one in some way, shape or form. Let me know what you think. :)  
> (There are some questions at the end of the chapter that I'm really curious to know your thoughts on, so take your time to let me know about your opinion. :3)

On the train ride back to London, Aya and her eight friends miraculously managed to fit into one compartment, where Astoria spent most of the journey on someone’s lap to save space. They talked about celebrating New Year together and Aya saw it fit to invite them to her house on the 31st. They would have to camp in the drawing room but who cared about that shit when there was good company, food and drinks.

Since they would be exchanging gifts with each other, they all had to do some late Christmas shopping. Aya went to a muggle department store with Sirius and Severus. There were so many things to look at and choose from, but damn, if it wasn’t getting harder to decide what to get her friends with each passing year without being repetitive.

In the end, she ended up buying lots of different candy, mugs with different motifs, some Christmas-themed apparel, such as hats, gloves, scarves, and socks. For Sirius, she bought a mug with a black dog, lots of coffee and a book about different psychological phenomena. For Severus, she got a mug with the Batman logo, different kinds of tea from more traditional to fruity and crazy combinations, and a book about meditation and relieving stress, because Lord knew how stressful his job as a teacher was.

On the twenty-third, they set up a Christmas tree in the drawing room and Aya made sure to gift-wrap all the presents.

On the twenty-fourth, she made a personalised and handcrafted Christmas card for each of her friends and parents. While she was working on the cards, Severus and Sirius drank peach-flavoured ice tea, which Sirius pretended was whiskey, and played some Mortal Kombat. They were even keeping up with how many wins and losses each of them had. In the evening, Severus, Sirius and her had dinner and Severus ended up sleeping over.

On Christmas morning, she first tasked her owl Athena to deliver the cards to all her friends. The owl didn’t look happy with all the things she would have to carry, but seemed to cheer up at the promise of her own Christmas present.

As she sent her off, her godfather came knocking on her door, wishing her a ‘Merry Christmas’. “Before Severus has a chance to beat me to it,” he said, as he hugged her and kissed her forehead.

She giggled, but returned both gestures. For two people who couldn’t stand each other two decades ago, they sure spent a lot of time together these days, and she wasn’t complaining.

They went down to the dining room, where Severus was already sipping on his tea and reading the Daily Prophet.

“Merry Christmas, Severus,” she called happily as she approached him, hugged him and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas,” he returned, squeezing back.

They had a rich and plentiful breakfast. “Thank you, Kreacher,” she said as he served her. “And Merry Christmas to you too.”

“Kreacher thanks his mistress, and wishes her a Happy Yule as well.”

After the meal, they went upstairs to the drawing room to open the presents. Aya opened hers first. From Severus, she got monkey earmuffs, fresh mint tea, and homemade potions Russian roulette chocolates.

“Some are plain, but most of them have either pitch-changing, giggling, crying or colour-changing potions in them,” he said. “They all look the same, so you never know what you might get.” A wicked grin spread across his face.

She popped one into her mouth and all of a sudden, she started crying. “Thank you, Severus,” she cried, “when do the effects wear off?” More tears came out of her eyes.

“The potions aren’t very strong and the doses I used are small as well, so fifteen minutes at most.”

“Good to know,” she sniffed, and blew her nose.

Sirius took one as well. As he bit into the chocolate, his eyes lit up at the taste. “You made this, Severus?”

He nodded.

“It’s really good,” he praised and almost immediately started laughing and rolling on the floor. Aya wanted to laugh at her godfather but instead only managed to cry some more.

Ten minutes or so later, Aya and Sirius were wiping away the last of their tears and were finally back to normal.

She sighed. “As good as the chocolate is, I think I’ll refrain from overindulging. I don’t want to end up crying for an hour straight, although I wouldn’t mind looking and sounding like an alien.”

She moved onto Sirius’ gift, which was an envelope. Inside it, there was a paper where her godfather had written down his PayPal information to buy whichever games she wanted on Steam within 200 pounds.

She let out an excited squeal, her eyes sparkled at the thought of all the games she would buy, and since Christmas and New Years’ sales were happening, she could get many videogames for much cheaper than usual, even the popular titles such as Assassin’s Creed.

After she opened her presents, she encouraged Severus and Sirius to open theirs. They opened them almost at the same time. They looked weirdly at the books’ titles and tried to figure out what it meant.

“Uh, pup,” said Sirius, clearing his throat, “are you trying to tell us something with this?” He gestured to the books he and Severus were holding.

She inhaled deeply and opened her mouth, but she couldn’t come up with an explanation right away. “Uh, actually, yes.” She closed and opened her mouth a few times trying to find the right way to say what she wanted to say.

“You know how I’ve been helping Neville improve over the last couple of months?” Severus nodded. “Well, we’ve been doing a lot of meditation, yoga and different breathing exercises to make him feel more confident and comfortable in his body. And since whatever we’ve been doing has produced great results, I thought to myself, ‘why not have Severus and Sirius do this as well’, because if Neville was able to benefit from it so could you two.”

Severus and Sirius looked sceptical. “I don’t know, pup. Like, why would we need it in the first place?” questioned Sirius.

“You, Sirius, have spent over a decade in a prison. Whether they are muggle or magical, prisons take a toll on one’s physical and psychological health,” started explaining Aya. “I know you’re already seeing a therapist, but you could do things at home as well and completely for free. And you, Severus,” she turned to him, “are a teacher and you know just how stressful it can get when you have to deal with kids and teenagers who are not even listening to what you’re saying most of the time.”

He agreed begrudgingly.

“But with these exercises you could both do something for yourselves, both your minds and bodies. Because if one feels good on the inside, then it also shows on the outside. Neville is proof of that. And I myself can attest to that as well,” she assured them.

“I suppose playing violent videogames as a way to relieve stress or smashing things and insulting people helps as well,” she continued, “but meditation and yoga have long-lasting health benefits. They not only help you relieve and deal with stress, they also offer balance and regulation of one’s body and mind, and they aren’t even that time consuming; twenty minutes of each a day every day can do wonders for one’s physiological and psychological health, trust me. You won’t regret it.”

They exchanged looks with each other. Sirius gestured with his head towards Severus and arched an eyebrow in a silent question. Severus grimaced and shrugged in agreement.

“Okay,” said Sirius sighing, “we’ll try this meditation and yoga. But you’ll have to guide us through it, because we don’t know shit about either.”

Aya beamed and squealed excitedly.

…

From 25 December to the morning of 31 December 2014, Aya, Severus and Sirius spent each morning doing yoga, meditation and different breathing exercises. After six days, both Sirius and Severus had to admit that it kind of worked, and promised to practice these techniques on their own as well every day.

Aya was happy.

On the day of New Years’ Eve, Aya was excited to spend it and welcome the New Year surrounded by her friends and family. (She already celebrated Voldemort’s birthday with all the horcruxes in her landscape, so it made sense to spend the New Year with her friends and family.) She worked closely with Kreacher that day to prepare the food for the guests. They baked several batches of cookies, two dozen muffins, and made a tray full of mini sandwiches and antipasto skewers.

Sirius came to the kitchen a couple of times to get some coffee and tried to snatch some of the snacks. As soon as Aya saw him going for a cookie or a muffin, she would reprimand him and swat his hand, saying he should wait for the guests to arrive before digging in.

The first ones to arrive were Hermione, Susan and Hannah shortly after lunch. They hugged and kissed on the cheeks and Aya showed them where they could hang their cloaks and leave their boots, and then led them to the drawing room where they could put away their gifts as well as showed them her gaming equipment and offered them refreshments. They could choose between different juices, water, and teas.

Half an hour or so later, Daphne and Astoria came and fifteen minutes after them, Ginny and Luna finally arrived. She did the same procedure with them as well, until all of the girls were sitting comfortably in the drawing room. The only one missing was Neville.

Around five o’clock in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. “That must be Neville,” she said and hurried downstairs.

She swung the door open with a smile, expecting to see Neville, but instead came face-to-face with a Santa Claus. She let out a surprised sound.

“Ho-ho-ho, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year,” said the male voice joyfully.

Aya was lost for words. “Uh, not to be rude, but you’re almost a week too late for Christmas and a few hours early for New Year.”

The Santa Claus laughed, tugged on his beard a bit and revealed his mouth. “Aya, it’s me,” he said smiling.

Aya’s eyes widened. Now that he wasn’t changing his voice to make it deeper, she recognised it immediately.

“Neville?” She couldn’t believe it. “What are you doing dressed as Santa?” She laughed.

“Well, I heard this character brings gifts to muggle children so I thought I would come dressed like the character, bearing gifts. Tada!” He presented the giant white cotton bag and jiggled it a bit to make the gifts hit against one another.

She laughed some more.

“Tell me you have a change of clothes with you.”

“Of course I have. It’s in the bag with the gifts,” he said.

She guided him to the drawing room, where the girls crowded around him amazed at the costume. Since it would have been a waste of costume and effort, they took advantage to exchange the presents. Neville went first, then Hermione, Susan, Hannah, Daphne, Astoria, Ginny, Luna and Aya.

Most of the gifts weren’t extravagant and mostly consisted of similar things that Aya bought for her friends as well, so she felt pretty good with her selection … until she opened Luna’s gift and saw a wolf’s skull. Like, damn, Luna really seemed to know her and her darker tastes. Hopefully, she will make a habit of gifting her animal (or human) skulls every year, because she wouldn’t mind collecting them. Although Hermione and her cute sushi plushie looked like a good thing to start collecting too.

After all the gifts were exchanged and opened, she showed Neville to the bathroom, where he could change into normal clothes. After that, she led them on a house tour to show off what she, her godfather and Sirius’ guards managed to achieve in a month.

After the tour, they returned to the drawing room for refreshments and snacks. As they nibbled and sipped, Aya suggested a few things they could do to have fun. They could dance to the music with _Just Dance_ ; they could play some traditional board games or cards. They would definitely watch a few films, but the only question was if they wanted to see them now or later.

Since the night was still young, and all of them were still full of energy, they decided to play some _Just Dance_. Since Aya didn’t have motion controller and only she and Hermione had smartphones for the app, they decided to dance without controllers or phones and just follow the moves.

As they were dancing, Sirius joined them for a couple of songs, because he just couldn’t help himself but butt in, while Severus was only shaking his head on the sofa with a cup of tea and a muffin in hands. Sirius tried to convince him to dance one song with him, but was instantly rejected, because Severus was not going to make fun of himself in front of his students.

With an hour to spare before actual dinner (Aya and Kreacher agreed to make it later than usual because everyone would be awake well past midnight), they played a few rounds of rummy, where Aya managed to win twice while Severus, Hermione, Daphne, and Neville only once. This prompted her to declare herself the Master of Cards, accompanying this declaration with a comical villainous laughter.

After dinner, they decided to watch a few episodes of Pat & Mat. Since there wasn’t any dialogue involved it didn’t really matter if they talked among each other. Taking advantage of this, Aya sat next to Neville.

“Neville,” she began quietly, “how are your parents? Have you gone to see them for Christmas?”

His face fell a bit. “Same as always. They don’t recognise me, they don’t speak, but my mother seems to be at least attempting to communicate with me through candy wrap paper.” A sad smile crossed his face. “But I don’t really know what they mean.”

She offered a sympathetic smile. “You know, I’ve been thinking; before you start researching and experimenting with plants and potions, why don’t you let a muggle specialist see them. It’s true that magic caused the damage, but the damage shows in the physiological changes of the body; an imbalance of hormones, changes in brain structure and damaged tissue … things like that. If muggle doctors saw them, they would be able to identify the damage your parents have suffered, the extent of it and try to come up with a solution. It will cost you money, but if they can make your parents somewhat functional again, I think it’s worth it.”

There was a pensive look on Neville’s face. “Okay.” He nodded. “But I can’t do anything until I’m of age, and I’m not exactly sure my grandmother would be willing to let muggle healers treat my parents. She thinks that if people at St. Mungo’s can’t do it, nothing can save my parents.”

Aya snorted. “Well, I suppose that if you have the mentality ‘if magic can’t heal magical damage, nothing can’, that’s true, but magic can’t heal and solve everything. Sometimes you have to try something else as well. If you wish, tomorrow we could look up a few institutions where they could check your parents and the prices,” suggested Aya, “just so that you get an idea.”

“Sounds great,” agreed Neville.

“And if that doesn’t work,” she sighed, “then you can still try to experiment with potions, but whenever you’re inventing something new, you have to test it first to see if it works, and for that you need test subjects,” thought Aya aloud.

“Muggles mostly experiment on animals, such as rats, something you could do as well, but you would use your product on people and you can’t get the same kind of results if you do it with animals.”

She hissed uncomfortably. “But human experimentation is controversial, because you can’t simply abduct a few dozen people and experiment on them against their will; that’s illegal, unethical and unprofessional.” Neville nodded wide-eyed.

“Preferably, you would need to get their consent by writing a contract where you explain all the risks that might occur and if people volunteer even knowing they might be risking their lives just because they think the reward will be worth it … why not?”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“But you won’t have to worry about that for at least four or five years if ever,” she assured him. “First try the muggle therapists, see what they have to say, and if they can’t do anything for them, then try coming up with your own solution.”

After Pat & Mat, they only managed to watch one of the two Mr. Bean movies, before the New Year countdown. Kreacher brought champagne glasses filled with kids’ champagne so that they would have something to toast with at midnight that wasn’t water, tea or juice.

As the clock stroke midnight and the fireworks started booming outside, everyone expressed their wishes for the upcoming year. Almost all of them wished for a successful and healthy year with good friends, food and music. Aya added her wish to become a Potter-Snape-Black by the end of the fourth year, which had Severus almost choking on the piece of the biscuit he was eating and Sirius was complaining at the order of surnames. All of her friends laughed.

Despite planning to stay awake until four or five o’clock in the morning, Aya and her friends passed out on the sofa in the drawing room by two in the morning. Luckily, they bought a big enough extendable sofa when Sirius and she were refurbishing the house, so all nine teenagers fit on it.

When Sirius and Severus noticed them asleep, they went to Aya’s bedroom and got a couple of extra blankets to cover them. Then, they turned off the TV and since Aya was sleeping on the edge, they both pressed a kiss on her head, wishing her good night, before retiring to bed.

…

The kids slept until half past eleven, missing breakfast, but that didn’t matter, since they would soon be eating lunch anyway.

When they all took care of their physiological needs and brushed their teeth, they headed to the dining room, where Severus and Sirius were playing cards with a cup of coffee. They greeted them and were greeted in return.

In the middle of their main course, Aya made a comment. “You know what?”

Everyone looked at her expectantly.

“Since this turned out to be extremely enjoyable, we should do this again next year.” They agreed. “However, I have another idea.” When was she not full of ideas? “Since Neville and I have our birthdays so close together, we should celebrate them together, preferably at the beach, with music, beach volleyball, and evening barbecue for two days straight,” she said excitedly.

“It would be a three-day-two-night trip to the beach, starting on 30 July and ending on 1 August. We would rent out a cottage or we could camp; tents and sleeping bags and everything,” suggested Aya. She looked at Neville. “What do you say?”

“I like it.”

She slung an arm over his shoulder grinning. “I knew you would.”

The rest seemed to agree as well.

“Oh, and Ginny,” she suddenly remembered something, “tell your brothers Fred and George they can come as well, so that they don’t feel left out from the celebrations.”

Ginny giggled. “I’ll tell them.”

After lunch, her friends slowly started to leave for home with their parents and guardians. They hugged and bid each other goodbye until next semester.

…

When Aya woke up on January 2nd, Severus and Sirius surprised her with a plan to visit Gringotts.

“It’s to get your birth certificate,” elaborated Sirius, as he took a bite of sausage.

“Before we open an adoption case,” said Severus, “we need your birth certificate. And you can only get one at Gringotts.”

“Great,” she grinned.

Once there, the Potter Family Manager oversaw the procedure. She was required to place three drops of blood onto the parchment. As the last drop touched and soaked into the paper, words started to appear.

…

 **Name:** Aya Potter

 **Sex:** Female

 **Blood Status:** Half-blood

 **Date of Birth:** 31 July 2000

 **Place of Birth:** Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, Great Britain

 

 **Father:** James Potter (deceased)

 **Father’s Blood Status:** Pureblood

 **Mother:** Lily J. Potter (née Evans) (deceased)

 **Mother’s Blood Status:** Muggleborn

 

**Legal guardians (until the age of 17):**

**Muggle:** Petunia Dursley (née Evans)

 **Magical*:** Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (temporary, until Sirius Black officially assumes the title)

_*Due to Miss Potter’s Blood Status as a Half-blood witch, the magical guardian possesses more legal power over the legal subject than the muggle guardian. In case of an absent magical guardian, the title of magical guardian goes to the headmaster of the magical institution Aya Potter is attending as a student._

**_Note:_ ** _Legal guardians can change at any given time with the prior written consent of the current guardians._

…

‘Fucking Dumbledore,’ cursed Aya. ‘He’s bloody everywhere. At least I can change the guardians whenever I want to, which will be as soon as possible. I just need to get them to transfer their rights to Severus and Sirius. I don’t think Aunt Petunia will have much to object, especially with the right incentive … however, the headmaster could be a problem.’

“If Severus and I were to officially adopt her,” Sirius asked the manager, “how would we appear on her papers?”

“If you only get the papers in order, you will appear as her adoptive parents in all the Ministry documents, but only as legal guardians in ours. If you want to be recognised as her adoptive parents by Magic herself, then you would need to perform the Blood Adoption Ritual, which as you know requires a special permit from the Ministry.”

Sirius turned to her. “What do you say, pup? Would you like us to blood adopt you as well?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind,” she replied. “But what exactly is this ritual? What does it entail?”

“It requires the participants to offer a bit of their blood to the adoptee and the child in question has to drink it.” Aya’s face contorted into a disgusted grimace. “The prospective parents do it to transfer some of their traits onto their prospective child or children, if we are talking about multiple adoptees, and the child accepts the changes in their constitution by drinking the blood mixture.”

“Is it painful?”

“It could get nasty, yes,” the goblin grinned wickedly. “But it varies according to the amount, the nature, and the extent of changes one’s body goes through. It might just be a matter of colouring, like your eyes, hair or skin, those are usually not painful only uncomfortable at most, but it could also change some of your bone structure, in that case, there is usually pain involved.”

Aya was stunned.

“And what determines the amount and the nature of changes?”

“Different factors. The ritual always requires the same amount of blood from each prospective parent and the child always drinks the same amount of potion, so it probably has to do with the blood itself.”

“Do blood types matter in this case?”

“Blood types?” asked the goblin confused.

“You know, the ABO and Rh system,” she offered, but everyone in the office was looking at her weirdly.

“There are eight versions; A+, A-, B+, B-, AB+, AB-, O+, and O-. Not every blood type is compatible with every blood type. It also matters which blood type is the donor and which one the recipient. For example, only O- red cells are compatible with every single blood type variation when they act as the donor and only AB+ can receive every single red blood cell variation; the rest of the combinations are much more specific and strict, especially when you start including plasma compatibility as well.”

The awkward and uncomfortable silence continued.

“I’m afraid we don’t know what you are talking about, Miss Potter,” finally said the goblin carefully.

She looked at them as if they were crazy.

“You expect me to perform a ritual that strongly resembles blood transfusion in the muggle world, and you don’t know anything about what blood types are nor their compatibility with one another?” she asked in disbelief. “Tell me something, Griphook, has anyone ever died during the ritual or shortly after it?”

“… It doesn’t occur very often, but there have been some instances where it did happen, yes,” answered Griphook cautiously. Sirius paled and Severus looked wary.

“There you have it,” she said smugly. “All the more reason to get all three of us tested to see which blood groups and subgroups we belong to. I’m not taking unnecessary risks, when they can be easily avoided,” she said with determination and both Severus and Sirius numbly agreed with her.

…

After receiving a copy of the birth certificate, Sirius and Severus have contacted Amelia Bones to help them initiate the process as well as prepare the necessary papers, including those for guardianship transfer.

While Amelia worked, they took a trip to a muggle laboratory where they were tested for blood type. Aya turned out to be an AB+, Severus an O+, and Sirius a B+. Luckily, she was the kind of patient that could receive any blood type regardless of the Rh factor, so she wouldn’t enter into conflict or incompatibility with either of them, which was great.

When Sirius saw the results, he visibly expressed his relief and even though Severus was more subtle about it, she could tell he was relieved as well.

…

It took a little over a month to get the papers in order, mostly because the Ministry was in over their heads over the adoption of the Girl-Who-Lived. Some people were making a fuss about other things as well; such as the fact that one of the people who wanted to adopt her was Sirius Black, because some still weren’t convinced of his innocence despite there being solid proof. Some people had problems with Severus Snape wanting to adopt her because of his past affiliation with Voldemort and Death Eaters. Some people were bothered by the fact that two males wanted to adopt her, because it was considered scandalous and distasteful. Some were even frowning over the fact that they also wanted to blood adopt her, saying it would be sacrilegious to her biological parents, who gave their lives for her and the wizarding world, to let blood of other people enter her body.

It astonished her just how vocal all these strangers were about her life and her well-being, as if they had any right or authority to do it. They acted as if they actually cared. Unfortunately, she couldn’t give a fuck about them or their good-natured opinions. They didn’t know shit about her and they acted as if they knew better than her.

She might be an understanding and relatively tolerant person about most things, especially morally questionable things, where she tried to see from different perspectives and understand the feelings and motives behind other people’s actions. However, she had no understanding, forgiveness or patience with people who meddled in other people’s lives, allegedly with good intentions, but only did more damage than actual good.

Therefore, when Severus and Sirius started receiving howlers and hate mail for wanting to adopt the Girl-Who-Lived and the haters referred to them as Death Eater scum who should have been locked up in Azkaban for the rest of their lives, she finally had enough of them all and wrote a furious and highly insulting letter to the newspaper agency that published those slandering articles.

_Beloved scums and freeloaders of The Daily Prophet (you, Rita Skeeter, especially),_

_First, I would like to take this opportunity to say what piles of bullshit you all are, and even saying that feels like an insult to the shit itself. As I read your articles about my adoption process and your thoughts and opinions about the prospective adoptive parents who want to give me a loving home, I can’t help but feel disgusted, and even that is putting it mildly._

_How some people have the gall to even so much as assume they have the right or authority to comment and decide about what’s best for me when quite frankly you don’t have a fucking clue, I will never understand. But what I want you to understand (if your stupid little brains are even capable of something like that) is to stay the fuck out of my life, because it doesn’t fucking concern you!_

_What the fuck do you care if someone wants to adopt me? What is it to you who my adoptive parents are going to be? The next thing you’re going to tell me is who I should marry, how many kids I should have and how they should be named! Like fuck you! All of you! It’s my life dammit; I can do with it whatever the fuck I want! If I want Severus Snape and Sirius Black as my adoptive parents, then they are going to be my parents and no one can tell me otherwise. Certainly not uptight, hypocritical and incompetent wizarding scum such as yourselves._

_I demand you publicly apologise for insinuating that Severus and Sirius are not worthy and able to take care of me, as well as immediately stop writing about this topic altogether, otherwise there will be hell to pay. Because the first person who dares to speak ill about either Severus Snape or Sirius Black or any people who are close and dear to me for that matter, I will personally make sure they regret ever crossing me. Because what I’ll do to the people who dare say a single word against them will make Voldemort look like a saint in comparison!_

_I don’t give a shit what you think about me or this letter. In fact, I would strongly encourage you to take all your thoughts and opinions about me and shove them high up your arses so they don’t leak out accidentally, because otherwise, I’m going to shove a watermelon up your anuses and you can be sure it’s not going to be pleasant._

_I hope I made myself clear, because I hate repeating myself._

_With all my hate,_

_Aya Potter-Snape-Black_

_P. S. You can publish this letter in the next issue for all I care, maybe if you publish it; the entire fucking wizarding world can see what I think about them and their concerns over my person and well-being. And don’t even think about sending me any mail, because I’m not even going to read it, but send it straight back to you together with a curse or two. Maybe if your hair, teeth and skin start to fall off, you’ll fucking learn to leave me be!_

…

The morning after she sent the letter to the publishing house, the entire school was in an uproar.

Her friends quickly buried her under one giant group bear hug thanking her for considering them close enough to protect. Besides them, quite a few people from all houses came up to her to express their best wishes in regards to the adoption and praise her for standing up for herself. Fred and George went as far as to kneel before her and pledge their services and eternal loyalty to her if she ever decided to become a Dark Lady and rule the world, which promptly made her laugh, but thanked them anyway. Some, namely Ronald Weasley and the like, were already declaring her the next Lord Voldemort, while others simply abstained from any kind of comment and/or interaction with her not to accidentally incur her wrath.

Severus approached her at the table with a strict face and called her to his room to discuss the letter she had written without their knowledge, but as soon as they were alone, he let his strict mask fade into an amused grin and hugged her close.

“That was something a Gryffindor would do,” he remarked, “but dammit, I’m proud of you.”

She laughed. “Someone had to put those bitches in their place,” she said fiercely, hugging him back. “No one speaks ill of my loved ones without consequences.”

A moment later, Sirius burst through the fireplace with a stack of papers. With misty eyes and a huge grin on his face, he crushed her in a hug against his chest, as he playfully ruffled her hair and praised her for her genius.

Then, he remembered the other thing he came to inform them. “Oh, yeah, I received an owl from Amelia, she got Petunia’s signature without any problems.” He grimaced a bit. “Apparently, she was more than glad to accept the 5,000 pounds we offered as the incentive to make her renounce her rights and transfer them all to me and Severus.”

Aya remained impassive at the news. She wasn’t surprised. However, she would be surprised if her aunt suddenly rejected the offer. Now they only needed Dumbledore’s signature and as luck would have it, he summoned her to his office to discuss her adoption.

…

Severus and Sirius accompanied her, the latter carrying the necessary papers for Dumbledore to sign in order to transfer the rights and title to Sirius and Severus as the only legally binding guardians, because she didn’t trust the headmaster enough to be alone in a room with him if he decided to get difficult. He was older and much more experienced in magic than she was. Of course, Marvolo and Gaunt would protect her from any incoming spells, but then Dumbledore might get suspicious.

As they entered his office, he greeted them and offered them a seat. She declined. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Headmaster. We will try to make this quick.”

“As you wish. A sherbet lemon?”

She looked coolly at the offered candy. “No, thank you. Now that the holidays are over I’m trying to watch my sugar intake.”

“Very well,” he said gravely. “Then let’s proceed to what I wanted to talk to you, my girl.”

She couldn’t agree more.

“I’ve read your letter to the Daily Prophet and I’ve been paying attention to your adoption process, and I’m afraid I can’t let it happen.”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “You can’t or won’t?”

“Miss Potter, things are more complicated than you think,” he said. “I understand that the idea of Severus and Sirius adopting you appeals to you, but it is not as simple as you think it is.”

She was baffled at his audacity to suggest such a thing. “Of course it is simple,” she retorted. “The only one who’s making things more complicated than they are and need to be is you, Headmaster.”

“You cannot leave the care of your aunt, Aya. It is imperative that you return to the Dursleys until you reach majority.”

She levelled him with a hard look.

“Why?” He was silent. “Why should I return to a place where I’m not wanted? What could be so important that would require me to be where I don’t want to be?” Her eyes narrowed. “Although … I suppose the real question is: Do you have the _balls_ to tell me the reason behind your opposition to my face, without lying or bullshitting me?”

“You are far too young to know all that is involved,” said Dumbledore in a grandfatherly patronising way.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” she hissed angrily. “I’m more than mentally capable of comprehending what is going on around me. I’m neither as naïve nor as stupid as you clearly think I am, so don’t treat me like an idiot or a delicate child, because I’m far from it.”

“Very well.” He nodded. “It’s for your protection,” he said finally.

Her eyebrows rose again in bafflement. “My protection?” she repeated, “What kind of protection? From whom or what exactly?”

“When your mother put herself between you and Voldemort that night,” he said, “she did it because of love. She sacrificed her life so that you might continue living yours. That kind of love and sacrifice generate powerful protective magic. That is how you probably survived the killing curse and that is why you must stay with your blood relatives. As long as you see your aunt’s house as your home, the blood wards that have erected when I left you there will continue to offer you protection your mother left behind for you.” He paused, before saying, “From Voldemort.”

She was unimpressed, but she heard a sharp intake of breath from behind her.

“Of course,” she said with sarcasm and mock understanding, “because Voldemort is the only threat I can face in life, is that right?” She was trying to provoke him. “Besides, if your explanation holds true, then I’m afraid my mother’s protection has already stopped working, because I stopped considering that place my home a long time ago actually,” she informed him gleefully.

“And for the record, Headmaster, I think you and I have two very different definitions of family and home. It would seem that to you, family is the people who share your blood, while to me, family doesn’t necessarily mean blood relation, but rather the people who offer you unconditional love and protection, something my aunt was never capable of doing, and Severus and Sirius have given me in excess. In fact, she already gladly traded her guardianship for a few thousand pounds. A wonderful aunt, wouldn’t you say?”

He had nothing to say to that. He probably didn’t expect it.

“And while to you,” she continued, relishing in his speechlessness, “home is a place where your blood relation lives, to me, home is not a place but the people I consider family. If I consider 12 Grimmauld Place and Spinner’s End home right now, it is because Severus and Sirius live there. If they didn’t, those places would hold no value to me.”

“I only wanted what was best for you,” he said finally, and Aya couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I thought that you would be safer and better off growing away from the fame your name had in the wizarding world.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt for a second that your concern and interest in my well-being were good intentioned,” she said mockingly, “however, have you ever heard of the saying ‘The path to Hell is paved with good intentions’? Because I have a feeling that you mean good, but fail to deliver on your intentions, so most people end up suffering because of it. However,” she turned to Sirius and took the document from him, “I’m not going to be one of those people, so,” she slid the document in front of Dumbledore, “before things get nasty, I suggest you sign your rights and guardianship over to my parents.”

Dumbledore was regarding her with a saddened and disappointed look. “Is there nothing I can say to make you reconsider your decision?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ve already made up my mind.”

He hesitated, but ended up signing the papers. She took the document, examined it and said, “That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?” with a broad grin.

“Now that you have what you wanted, what are you going to do if Voldemort returns?”

She looked at him confused. “Nothing,” she shrugged. “Absolutely nothing. If he decides to return tomorrow to conquer and rule the world, I will step aside and let him do it. Because I have absolutely no interest in fighting him.”

“But you have to,” he insisted suddenly, a desperate glint in his usually twinkling eyes, “you are the only one who can stop him. Your parents died for this.”

She regarded him with annoyance. “Just because a prophecy says I can defeat him, it doesn’t mean I actually will.”

A look of shock spread across his face. He probably didn’t expect her to know about that information.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not doing that shit. Find another idiot to do it for you or better yet, do it yourself if you’re so damn concerned over Voldemort; just don’t dare drag any of my friends and family into your schemes, because you’ll regret ever messing with the people I love.”

“Is that a threat, Miss Potter?” he questioned her warily.

She shrugged. “Not a threat, more like a warning to stay the hell away from me, my friends and my family, because otherwise I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions and you won’t be able to say I didn’t warn you.”

She turned to the door. “Severus, Sirius,” she called to them, “let’s go.” She crossed the threshold, before adding a bit more salt to the headmaster’s wound, “Oh, and thank you for your cooperation with the law.”

…

A few days before Valentine’s Day, Aya officially became Severus and Sirius’ adopted daughter. She celebrated with her friends and her new parents during the Hogsmeade weekend. Now they only had to wait for Easter break when they would adopt her through the Blood Adoption Ritual as well.

On Valentine’s Day night, however, when she returned from the celebration, she found a letter on her dorm bed. She immediately recognised the writing. It was a letter from Voldemort … Finally.

**Dear Aya,**

**Congratulations on becoming a Potter-Snape-Black, although I must say I am much more impressed with the letter you sent to The Daily Prophet a couple of weeks ago. Do you really have a way to torture someone that would make Crucio (one of the three unforgivable curses used for torturing) pale in comparison?**

**I apologise for the long silence since our last conversation, but I had to process the information you revealed to me and adjust my plans accordingly. If everything goes according to plan, you and I should be seeing each other sometime next year.**

**Voldemort**

_Dear Voldemort,_

_I am glad to hear from you. I was afraid I broke you with the last revelation, but I’m happy to see you have finally managed to acclimate yourself to the idea of having an unplanned and unexpected horcrux roaming around, in other words, me. I know you didn’t ask, but I am happy to report that all of us (Tom, Marvolo, Gaunt, and me) are in good conditions and that you have nothing to worry about._

_As for your question about torture, Voldemort darling, you better than anyone should know that Crucio is not the only way to torture somebody into insanity. I know many ways to do it and none of them include any magic. If you’re interested, I could tell you a few._

_On another note, I have to wait an entire year to see you? Damn Voldemort, just what kind of crazy, elaborately convoluted masterplan are you plotting that it takes so much time to execute? Are you sure you’re not overthinking and over planning things unnecessarily? Not that I’m trying to question Your Eternal Darkness, but damn, a whole year?_

_Impatiently looking forward to seeing your face (which I hope is in better condition that when we last met)._

_Lots of hugs and kisses,_

_Aya Potter-Snape-Black (damn feels good to sign like that)_

…

**My Dearest Aya,**

**Of course, I am interested in hearing all the morbid and twisted ways you would torture somebody. The more gruesome and bloodier, the better. I am glad to hear you are taking good care of my horcruxes. They are extremely important to me. I imagine you know why.**

**I did not know you were so eager to see me. Though I suppose four years is a rather long period without seeing or hearing each other, but do not worry, it will be worth it, and Lord Voldemort always makes good on his promises. What is it that muggles say? Good things come to people who wait? Therefore, I advise you to learn some patience, my dear. You will be busy doing other things during the school year anyway than think of me and my glorious self.**

**With attention,**

**Voldemort**

_My Darling Voldemort,_

_Of course, I am eager to see you, why wouldn’t I be? Regardless of the circumstances in which we met, I do find you equally intriguing and captivating as you find me, and because I want to see the results of … whatever you did with the stone I helped you acquire. Like, I’m curious as fuck!_

_I suppose you’re right, next year is my O.W.L. year and everyone is already getting anxious, though I’m confident in my meditation and yoga skills to de-stress myself and ace the exams without any problems._

_As for the torture techniques, I like to classify them into three categories, although the last two go hand in hand because they are so closely related. They are physical, psychological and emotional._

_Some of the ideas that come to mind:_

  1. _Being eaten alive by piranhas, or other flesh-eating animals or insects. It’s slow and painful._
  2. _Burying someone alive and waiting for them to run out of oxygen or for dehydration and hunger to do their work, or if they get desperate enough, they might end up drinking and eating their own piss and flesh. The height of self-destruction._
  3. _Ruining someone’s life in all senses of the word. You destroy them physically, emotionally, mentally, financially, socially, until they are so fucking desperate the only way to feel relief from the torture is death. However, you don’t kill them, instead, you give them the weapon, so they can do it themselves, because why should you do it when you don’t have to._
  4. _You could actually skin someone alive. They would probably die in the process, but peeling someone’s skin off while they’re conscious is painful enough to drive anyone insane._
  5. _Having a hallucinogen injected into the bloodstream and then be forced to live out their worst fears and nightmares without escape._



_You can tell I read many crime novels, because there is all sorts of fucked up shit going on there. I could probably think of more, but this letter is already getting longer than anticipated._

_(Of course, it should be noted that the above-mentioned torture scenarios are applicable only to those who I deem deserve it. I do not condone unnecessary torture of innocents, but if you ever feel like it, you are free to use any of the above-provided scenarios for your future torture sessions. Try to be creative in your torturing, because right now it sounds to me like you are extremely partial to Crucio, but even if it is effective it can get boring pretty quickly.)_

_Anyway, I don’t think I ever told you this, but in my second year I attended Sir Nicholas’ (the ghost) Deathday party dressed as a skeleton (and as a mummy and a decaying corpse in my subsequent party attendances) and I had the honour of meeting lots of ghosts there. I somehow ended in a discussion about human sacrifices in Pre-Colonial civilisations, where they would rip someone’s still-beating heart out of the chest at the top of the temple, then let the blood flow down the temple steps to power the gods._

_Then, we talked about the mummification process in Ancient Egypt. Did you know they used a rod to liquefy the brain through the cranium and then the brain just kind of oozed out of the nostrils? Just thinking about it makes me excited. (I know, I’m fucked up, but I don’t care. I never said I was sane in the first place, it’s your fault if you assumed I was.)_

_I don’t know what it is about blood and gore that excites me so much, but if you ever feel like buying me a Birthday or Christmas present, a fiction book on human experimentation or psychological horror would be much appreciated (or an animal or human skull works wonders as well. My friend Luna got me into it when she got me an eagle skull for my fourteenth birthday, then on New Years’ Eve she got me a wolf’s skull and I have a feeling she might get me another skull for my fifteenth birthday as well, so my skull collection is slowly expanding)._

_Anyway, I think I should stop … for now. Feel free to write to me whenever you want to read my ramblings. It’s a shame you can’t see or hear me though, I think you would enjoy seeing me gesticulate like an ape while listening to my charming voice. (If Tom, Marvolo, Gaunt and the horcrux inside me enjoy it, so would you.)_

_With lots of love,_

_Aya_

…

**Aya,**

**You continue to amaze and fascinate me. Maybe in some twisted way the prophecy was right, you are my equal, maybe not in strength and magic power (yet), but in just how cruel and sadistic you can be. Maybe next time we see each other, I might tempt you to join me as a partner, my personal advisor and consultant. I want you by my side in any way I can have you.**

**I would understand if you preferred not to involve yourself, but I do think it would be a blasphemy to let such a dark and perverted mind go to waste. Just imagine what we could achieve together. We could make a difference in the wizarding world. We could make the _right_ difference. I think we can both agree that things cannot go on like they are right now. There is too much corruption and prejudice. I am no saint, but I believe that if we combined our ideas, the outcome could be something wonderful. **

**On another note, I would have loved to see a picture of your costumes, so maybe next time you decide to wear something terrifying make sure to show it to me. I will try following your advice and be more creative in my torture. I like number 4 the most, but I like the others you have mentioned as well. I just need to find the right people to try them. With how many of my followers turned their backs on me in my time of need, I think I will have plenty of guinea pigs to experiment on. Maybe I could extend an invitation to the torture sessions or send you a copy of the memories?**

**A debate about human sacrifice and mummification process sounds like a perfect topic to discuss at a meal or over a cup of tea.**

**With affection,**

**Voldemort**

_You already tempt me with the way you praise me, my dear Voldemort._

_I do think this world needs a thorough cleansing. There are too many sheep (scum, freeloaders, human garbage, etc.) and too little wolves (people with a vision) like us in the society, but even as a wolf, I don’t have the patience for politics. I suppose I wouldn’t mind giving you suggestions behind the scenes, but to be a public figure in your campaign towards change … Thank you, but no thank you. I don’t like the spotlight. I will leave that part to you, because you have the name and the persona for that, so maybe once you decide to strike, you will become the Minister or, dare I say, King of the Wizarding Britain._

_I think I like how that sounds. If I join you, you could be the King and I will be your Queen. But before I give you my final answer, let me think about it._

_With love,_

_Your future Queen Aya_

_P. S. I agree about human sacrifices and mummification process being the perfect conversation topics and if you can find a way for me to visit you without arousing suspicions, I would be honoured to attend your torture sessions._

_I heard you don’t particularly like muggles, but maybe I’ll be able to convince you to watch or play a few muggle Horror videogames with me. Imagine all the gruesome virtual deaths we will die._

…

**I think it won’t be difficult to keep you out of the spotlight if you so desire. And I think I like the title of King or Emperor better than Minister. Minister is such a dull title.**

**I will eagerly await your answer when we meet next year, my precious Queen. My Empress.**

**Your King/Emperor Lord Voldemort**

**P. S. Would a promise of dozen different animal skulls convince you to say yes?**

_I see you, Voldemort. I see what you’re trying to do, and you know what? … It’s working. Damn you._

_Until we meet in person again, my Darling King/Emperor Lord Voldemort._

_With heaps of adoration,_

_Your Queen/Empress Lady Aya_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I don't know about you, but to me the letter exchange between Voldemort and Aya started to resemble flirting without actually meaning to be flirtatious. Though I suppose what was said as "flirting" might not be considered as such by many. So ... I don't know, what do you think?
> 
> Torture scenarios were inspired by other works of fiction. For example, number 1 can be traced to The Mummy film or Dona Barbara. Number 2 was inspired by La Mujer de Judas (The Wife of Judas) where the serial killer buries one of the characters inside a wall. Number 3 I'm not sure about that one. Number 4 I'm also not sure. And number 5 you could say was inspired by the latest DLC for Shadow of the Tomb Raider: The Nightmare where Lara hallucinates, or any other character in other works of fiction.
> 
> As for the blood types. There is no official information in that regard (a site that has the characters' blood type stated somewhere, at least that I'm aware of) so I went with what the internet (Wikipedia) says about different blood types and their personalities so ...  
> I decided to make Aya an AB(+), which are said to be creative, calm, rational, sociable, intelligent and adaptable, but also critical, indecisive, unforgiving, and aloof. Not sure about indecisive, because Aya is really decisive, but most of the traits both bad and good can be seen in Aya.
> 
> I decided to make Severus an O(+) because they are supposed to be confident, self-determined, ambitious, strong-willed, intuitive, agreeable, competitive and athletic (I'm not sure about most of that, but he definitely fits more with the more negative traits associated with this blood type), but also unpredictable, spiteful, self-centered, cold, aggressive, arrogant, envious and ruthless. (I think that's much more accurate for Severus, wouldn't you agree?)
> 
> And though Sirius also shares quite a few negative traits with O blood type, I decided to make him a B(+) because they are supposed to be passionate, active, creative, animal-loving, flexible, cheerful, friendly and optimistic (I think that's accurate for Sirius), but also irresponsible, forgetful, selfish, lazy, impatient, unreliable and "going own way". (I think that sums Sirius quite accurately, but of course both Severus and Sirius are trying to change some of their worst personality traits for the sake of co-existence.)
> 
> You are, of course, welcome to comment on this aspect of the story as well ... in fact I would strongly encourage you to say a few things about it as well, because I don't think I ever read a fic with blood types before for Harry Potter fandom. In that vein, what do you think Voldemort's blood type would be? (Just type Blood type personality theory in Wikipedia to get a concise list of adjectives for all four types, which I have also copy-pasted here.) I'm curious to see where you would put Voldemort. :3
> 
> Before I go, a quick question I forgot to ask in my last update. Since Voldemort was spying on Aya ... how do you think he did it? You will find out in a few chapters, but I want to see your thoughts about it now :3


	14. Fifth Year: The Triwizard Tournament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally get to the juicy part of the fanfic, the fifth year and the Triwizard Tournament :) As mentioned in the previous notes, the outline of the events is similar to the canon, but the execution is different. Hopefully you will find it enjoyable, especially Aya's attitude in face of being the unwilling champion. ;) (Her reaction might not sit well with everyone, but it's part of who she is.)
> 
> As always thank you for the kudos and comments. They always make my day :3

As Easter holidays rolled by, Aya was both excited and slightly anxious about the Blood Adoption Ritual. Not because she was worried something would go wrong, but because she wasn’t looking forward to drinking blood no matter what else was mixed with it. She wasn’t a fucking vampire!

Just as anticipated, the potion tasted like bloody shit. She shuddered as it slid down her throat and fought back the urge to puke. There weren’t any visible changes immediately after the ritual, but when she woke up the next day and looked herself in the mirror, her usually wild hair looked much tamer (probably Severus’ influence) and her emerald green eyes acquired a grey ring around the pupil before it slowly faded into her usual eye colour (this change came from Sirius).

Other than that … nothing significant happened, maybe she looked a bit paler than usual, but that was about it. No pain or anything that would make her completely unrecognisable. She was still Aya, the biological daughter of Lily and James Potter, with the same blood type as before, but with a few extra genes added to her gene pool.

…

After successfully completing another school year at Hogwarts, Aya was determined to find a suitable place to celebrate Neville and her birthday. She was tempted to suggest going to Spain, because it wasn’t so far away from where they were, but it could get chaotic with her friends’ parents and guardians and she wanted to avoid unnecessary melodrama.

They would already have a chance to go there once they got their Apparition licences and were legal adults. Although going to Spain or Italy with just her and her fathers sounded nice as well.

With how popular booking a cottage for ten plus people was apparently, she had a hard time finding a nice and relatively cheap place to stay from 30 July to 1 August. In the end, she consulted with her friends by sending them printed pictures of the places, and they sent her the picture with the property that appealed to them the most.

They ended up booking a cottage in Devon with seven bedrooms, four bathrooms, a patio with a large wooden table and fourteen chairs, Wi-Fi, TV, and electrical domestic appliances such as oven, microwave, fridge, freezer, dishwasher, and washing machine. If they needed some fresh food for their breakfast, lunch, and barbecue, there was a shop less than a mile away from their location.

As the date of departure approached, she managed to squeeze a few one-day trips to the water park with her parents, compile a playlist and find a present for Neville. She decided to get him a few items for relieving stress and exercising the brain, such as Chinese Meditation Balls, Rubik’s Cube, Sudoku, and Thinking Putty.

…

On July 30th, her friends plus Fred and George gathered at 12 Grimmauld Place at ten o’clock in the morning. After everyone was there and everyone was firmly gripping their luggage, they side-along apparated to their destination: Papa Sev apparated with Aya and Hermione, Papa Siri with Ginny and Luna, George apparated with Susan and Hannah, Kreacher with Daphne and Astoria and Fred with Neville.

Once they checked in with the manager of the place, they looked around the cottage and decided on the rooming. Aya mostly didn’t care who she ended up sharing a room with, the only thing she knew for certain is that her fathers had to have one of the two rooms with the king-sized bed. She had a feeling something was going on between them, if Papa Siri’s figurative tail was wagging every time he was with Papa Sev. Only Papa Sev seemed not to notice or he did, but chose to ignore it.

In the end, the distribution was as follows: Papa Sev and Papa Siri got their room with the king-sized bed, Aya ended up in the second king-sized bedroom with Hermione and surprisingly Luna, while Ginny more than happily volunteered to room with Neville. She thought Ginny and Luna would room together, but after a comment from Luna and her own observation skills, she noticed Ginny was developing a serious crush on Neville and his newfound confidence. Outside of that little change in the pairs, the rest of them were predictable: Susan and Hannah, Fred and George, and Daphne and Astoria.

Because it was getting too hot to be outside, they instead decided to take a walk to the nearest supermarket to buy enough food for their stay at the cottage using Aya’s Android to navigate their way.

After eating a seafood risotto for lunch, they took a nap. When they woke up two hours later, they finally baked Neville a fruit buttercream cake and gave him his gifts. He happily and graciously accepted all of them even if Fred and George’s gift was somewhat wacky; featuring many of the joke products that would appear on the shelves of their business, once they got enough money to open it.

After the cake and the gifts, they went to the beach where they swam and played a bit of volleyball. Then, as the day was slowly being replaced by night, they brought out the barbecue and started roasting gourmet skewers and vegetables (Aya was especially looking forward to the roasted corn).

While Papa Sev and Papa Siri were working on the food, Aya _et_ company played some music in the patio. All of them had a chance to dance a bit with Neville, with Ginny going in for seconds and thirds. Then, they gathered at the wooden table outside, and enjoyed the smell of sea and freshly roasted food, accompanied by pleasant conversation.

When the penguin dance song came up, Aya suggested doing it, where all of them would form one long line, touching each other’s shoulders or hips (she already knew Ginny would be grabbing Neville’s hips if she were behind him) and repeating the same steps.

They would start by kicking outwards twice with each foot, then hop forward, hop back, and finally, hop three times forward again. After seeing how uncomplicated the steps were, they formed a line behind her in the following order: Severus, Sirius, Fred, George, Neville, Ginny, Hermione, Luna, Daphne, Astoria, Susan, and Hannah.

After tiring themselves from hopping so much, they retired to the living room, where they played some monopoly with Severus as the banker. They retired to the bed well after midnight, when it was technically already her birthday, but would give her gifts during the day while eating cake. And they weren’t planning on getting up early.

…

On July 31st, at around ten o’clock in the morning, Severus and Sirius surprised Aya with a chocolate cake for breakfast. They woke up early, so that everything could be ready by the time she and the rest of them woke up. Of course, there was also actual breakfast as well, but who wanted to eat eggs and sausages when there was chocolate cake.

Following the meal, Aya received her presents and as predicted, Luna gave her another life-size skull, this time; it was a rabbit’s skull. “My dad and I were hunting rabbits for dinner, and I thought I should skin and prepare one of the rabbit skulls for your birthday,” she said dreamily.

Aya hugged her. “It’s amazing, Luna. Thank you very much.”

Fred and George’s gift was similar to Neville’s although it supposedly contained more products for girls, such as “Soulmate Perfume”, which supposedly made you smell like a goddess to the person who was meant to be your true love and repelled those who were not, and “Pervert Protection Charm Necklace”, which let out a wave of electricity to stun the transgressor, whenever the wearer got touched in a way or by a person they didn’t want.

“The best thing about ‘Soulmate Perfume’ and ‘Pervert Protection Charm Necklace’ is that they don’t expire,” Fred and George informed her. “So you can use them all the time if you want … or until you spend the entire perfume bottle. But, should you need a refill, you can always contact us and we’ll brew some more just for you.” They winked at her playfully.

She wasn’t so sure about the perfume, she supposed she would use it when she actually became interested in looking for a husband, which would be in a decade or so, however, she would definitely give the necklace a try, because one never knew when some pervert decided to act against one’s will.

Hermione got her another food plushie; this time, it was a burger plushie. “Since you liked the sushi one so much, I decided to buy you another food plushie,” she said.

Ginny’s gift was smaller than the rest’s, but with the twins’ help, she managed to make a soap bar in the shape of a rose, but with lavender scent.

“I didn’t know what to get you,” she said slightly embarrassed, “then, as I was watching Fred and George do their experiments for the shop, I thought I could make something myself as well. It’s nothing special, it’s just homemade soap, and I chose lavender because supposedly it has calming and relaxing effects, and since this upcoming year you have O.W.L.s, I thought you might need some for relaxing baths before the exams.”

“Thank you, Ginny,” she chuckled, “I will put this soap to good use. I just hope it lasts me long enough to finish the school year.”

She got some beauty and skincare products from Susan and Hannah, from Daphne and Astoria she got her own personalised hairbrush with her new name engraved on the handle, some haircare potions, and some magical hair accessories.

“Our family believes a woman’s hair holds powerful magic that you can harness by taking good care of it,” said Daphne. “Especially if you do it during the full moon, when magic in the air is supposed to be most potent.”

And from Neville, she got a strategy book for war. “I know it was written by war generals for war,” he said, “but I have a copy myself and there are some universally applicable strategies for real life as well. It’s up to you whether you apply them to real life or not.”

After the gifts, they went to the beach to swim and relax in the water until it was time for a late lunch. They ate homemade fish and chips, with tartar sauce and ketchup, on the patio under the sunshade, accompanied by fancy non-alcoholic cocktails made by Sirius, because why not. For dessert, they were slowly eating ice cream while they were lazing on the sofa, watching TV.

As they were chilling, Hermione said, “You know what?” They looked at her. “After we do our Diagon Alley shopping, we should go to a muggle cinema to see a movie.”

“Sounds good,” said Aya. “Did you have a particular movie in mind? Because I certainly have one.”

“I do have one in mind actually.” She squinted at her. “Are we thinking about the same movie?”

Aya also squinted at her. “I don’t know. Are we?” she said with a grin.

“Let’s say it on the count of three. Ready? One … two … three.”

“MINIONS!” They said in unison and laughed.

“Oh my shit, yes!” laughed Aya. “We have to go see that movie.” She turned to the rest who were confused as hell. “You’re going to love the movie if the trailers are anything to go by,” she assured them.

Hermione and Aya showed them the trailers for the animated movie, and by the end of the final one, the rest also seemed eager to see the entire film, Fred and George in particular. It looked like a good movie to give them some pranking ideas.

As the day was ending, they barbecued the rest of the seafood they bought and made some seafood skewers and served them together with oven-baked potatoes, and some pancakes as dessert. Then, they danced some more, until they were too tired to keep thinking straight.

As they were leaving the cottage the next day, Aya almost wished they had stayed longer, because it was so fun and relaxing. At least they will spend more time together shopping and at the cinema watching Minions and eating popcorn.

…

When the start of another school year came, Aya’s friend group was so big they couldn’t possibly fit into one compartment … unless they improvised. Therefore, for all eleven people to fit into the compartment, some people had to sit in other people’s laps. Okay, only Astoria and Ginny sat in another person’s lap, Astoria in her sister’s and Ginny in Neville’s lap. The rest were sitting quite comfortably by themselves on either sides of the compartment.

They spent most of the ride playing games and talking, where the most important topic of the entire journey seemed to be Aya’s newest and freshest Hallowe’en costume. Now that she had exhausted her three ideas (skeleton, mummy and decaying corpse), she was struggling to come up with a good costume idea.

Neville suggested a samurai with a scary mask, and though Aya liked that idea, she wasn’t sure how to get the costume, because she wasn’t a skilled enough cosplayer to make one herself and actual costumes were expensive as fuck. Fred and George jokingly suggested that she dress as a banshee and scream at Ronald whenever he passed her as if announcing his death, and although it sounded like an excellent idea, she wanted something visually more disturbing than a cloaked woman. In that vein, Hermione suggested that she cosplay as the serial killer from the Venezuelan soap opera _The Wife of Judas_.

That was definitely something Aya had in mind, however, the two major technical problems were getting a wedding dress or something that looked like it and designing a horrible mask that resembled the one they used in the show. However, Hermione’s suggestion had given her the idea she would be using this year.

When asked what she would be, she simply grinned wickedly and said it was a surprise. She didn’t yield even when Fred and George tried to tickle the answer out of her. Luna, on the other hand, simply said, “An interesting but fitting choice for this year’s Hallowe’en event,” with her enigmatic voice.

…

During the Welcoming Feast, the headmaster made a very special announcement after the sorting ceremony.

“Before we all dig into the delicious food, I would like to make a very special and important announcement,” he said ceremoniously. “Unfortunately, inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

All Quidditch players and fanatics were shocked and speechless at the news, some Slytherin and Gryffindor enthusiasts went as far as vocally expressing their outrage, but Aya couldn’t care less. In fact, she wanted to laugh because they were being so ridiculous.

She never liked or saw the appeal of Quidditch. It was one of the most ridiculous and nonsensical sports she ever heard of. Why on Earth it had to be played in the air when they could have just played basketball was beyond her. Like, if the goal was to score as many points by throwing a fucking ball through a hoop, why couldn’t they do it like muggles did? And the snitch? She never understood why catching it ended and most of the time determined the outcome of a game. Like, just set a time limit and you’re set.

It would seem that wizards liked to complicate things unnecessarily. And for that sole reason, she preferred basketball to Quidditch anytime, even when she wasn’t the biggest fan of sports in general. Instead, she preferred to laze around and be a coach potato. Okay, she liked to clean, take walks, jog, and dance, but any extreme exercising was out of her comfort zone.

Her attention returned to the headmaster who was trying to calm the outraged Quidditch players and fans.

“I understand that some of you are upset about this news, but this is due to an event Hogwarts will be hosting this year.” The protests quieted. Dumbledore continued. “It is my honour and pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will take place here at Hogwarts after over-a-century-long hiatus.”

Astonished and excited murmurs filled the Hall. Aya was simply confused.

“I know that many of you already know what the tournament is, but for those who don’t I will make a quick overview of what the tournament is about,” he said kindly. “When the tournament was first established it was meant to be an event occurring every five years between the three largest European schools of wizardry – Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Each school had a champion to represent it, and the three champions competed in three highly demanding and risky magical tasks. The tournament was meant to be a way for young witches and wizards of different nationalities to interact with one another. However, the tournament was discontinued when the death toll became too high.”

There were several shocked and alarmed gasps. ‘For a friendly and tie-building competition there sure have been a lot of deaths,’ thought Aya.

“Over the centuries there were many failed attempts to reinstate the tournament, until this year,” announced Dumbledore. “Our Departments of International Magical Co-operation and Magical Games and Sports have finally made it happen. The Hogwarts staff and the Departments have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.”

He paused for a bit with a smile on his face.

“And now, before we talk details concerning this year’s Triwizard Tournament, I am proud to present the delegations of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.”

The great wooden door swung open and through them, the two Heads and their selected students walked into the Great Hall in two straight lines.

“For Beauxbatons, Madam Olympe Maxime and her group of lovely and beautiful ladies and a few gentlemen, and for Durmstrang, Igor Karkaroff and his group of strong and handsome young men.”

As the delegations walked by, the Beauxbatons line was leaving behind a trail of light, flowers and butterflies, while the Durmstrang line was leaving behind a trail of magical fire.

Everyone was clapping mesmerised, as they observed the elegant beauty and grace of Beauxbatons and the masculinity oozing out of Durmstrang. Even Aya was impressed with the display. If she didn’t know they used some kind of magic, she would have sworn they were using special effects.

The trails of fire, light, flowers and butterflies slowly faded away by the time the delegations reached the front of the room.

Dumbledore had gone to greet the fellow headmasters, then turned to the hall again and said, “Welcome Beauxbatons! Welcome Durmstrang! I hope that your students will be able to feel at home by the time they leave Hogwarts and that during the Tournament bonds of love and friendship might blossom between the members of all three schools.”

Clapping and cheers echoed through the Hall as some of the males and females of Hogwarts were evidently looking forward to the first part of international relations part. Aya grimaced in disgust.

‘Idiots,’ she growled to herself. ‘They only think about sex. As if that’s the only important thing in the world. Pathetic.’ Then again, there still hasn’t been a person to make her horny, no matter how many nudes and hentai she’d seen in her short life.

“Before Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students join you at the feast, I want to welcome two important figures more. Please, give a big round of applause to Bartemius Crouch Senior, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation, and Ludovic Bagman, Head of Magical Games and Sports, the men who made this tournament possible.”

Cheers even louder than before boomed through the Hall as the two men entered the Hall bowing slightly every few steps to both sides of the room. Aya grimaced in discomfort and put fingers in her ears to block some of the noise. ‘Is this a Football game or what?’ she thought in her head. ‘The only thing missing are the air horns.’

When they reached the front, they shook hands with Dumbledore.

“Now, the students of both schools will split in half and each half will join one of the four houses,” said Dumbledore as the cheers and applause died down.

Immediately, Hogwarts students began fighting over which school should come to which table. Slytherin and Gryffindor were eager to host the masculine Durmstrang while Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff preferred the gracious Beauxbatons students.

Aya couldn’t give a shit about who sat where as long as no foreign student sat in her vicinity. It was nothing against them, but she really didn’t want to suffer the fanboying or fangirling of her fellow students. She just wanted to eat her dinner in relative peace and converse with her friends Susan and Hannah.

As food appeared and people started eating, something caught Hannah’s attention. “Oh sweet Merlin,” she gasped. Susan and Aya looked at her worried.

“What is it?”

“Look at the Gryffindor table.” They looked, but were confused as to what exactly they should be noticing. “To where Hermione is.” They located Hermione with their gazes. “Look who’s sitting next to her,” said Hannah excitedly.

“Viktor Krum,” whispered Susan in recognition, but Aya couldn’t fathom why that was such a big deal. Who was this Viktor anyway? “ _The_ Viktor Krum?”

“Who is he?” asked Aya.

Her friends looked at her as if she just said a blasphemous word. “You don’t know who Viktor Krum is?” said Hannah.

She looked unsure. “Should I?”

“He’s only the most popular and hottest Quidditch player at the moment,” said Hannah importantly.

Aya rolled her eyes. “You know Hannah that I don’t like Quidditch, no matter how many times Papa Siri has already tried to convince me otherwise. So, yeah, I don’t know who he is nor am I particularly interested in knowing him.”

Hannah playfully stuck her tongue out at her. She stuck out hers in return. All three of them laughed.

As their laughter calmed down, Aya looked towards Hermione one more time, and saw her flushing and blushing at the attention Viktor was giving her; completely oblivious to the envious looks she was receiving from other girls.

Aya narrowed her eyes. She would have to watch out for rabid fangirls trying to bully or otherwise hurt Hermione for catching the attention of the Durmstrang hotty.

She took a better look of him. Maybe it was just her but, although he wasn’t ugly or unattractive by any means, she also didn’t think he was the most handsome and sexiest men alive. But then again, she was weird and still didn’t have a type in terms of looks.

Well … she did but … did a Demon Lord even count as a type?

Voldemort’s name popped up in her mind. She blinked and shook her head. Why would thinking about a Demon Lord make her think of Voldemort?

…

When the food disappeared from their plates, Dumbledore stood up again to continue the announcements.

“Now that we’ve all been fed and watered, it is time to discuss the nitty gritty details about the tournament. I would like to give Mr. Bagman the word.”

Claps and cheers accompanied this, as the man in question stood up and bowed.

“Uh, thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore, students. It is an honour to introduce the details about what makes this tournament different from the ones in the past. For starters, the winner will not only win the Cup and eternal glory, but also a personal prize of a thousand galleons.”

Aya noticed Fred and George’s eyes sparkle at this information.

“I know that all three things sound extremely tempting, but only those of age may enter the selection process.”

Fred, George, and a few other seventeen-year-old students celebrated while others began booing.

“Please, understand that this is a dangerous tournament and as such only legal adults can participate at their own risk,” explained Bagman to calm the disappointed student populace of Hogwarts.

Aya leaned towards her friends. “This contradicts headmaster’s earlier words,” she whispered, “about this tournament not being mortally dangerous and now this guy is saying it’s going to be dangerous and only adults can enter.”

“Strange,” said Susan with a pensive expression. Hannah nodded gravely as well.

“Although we have taken every imaginable precaution to ensure the survival of all three champions, the tasks remain to be difficult and dangerous,” elaborated Bagman. “We feel that students below seventh year are not skilled enough to face the challenges. To enter your name into the competition, however, you will have to submit a parchment slip with your name and the school you will be representing by slipping them inside the goblet of fire.”

He gestured towards the grand door and they swung open again, this time with poor Mr. Filch pushing a cart with what looked to be a giant luggage trunk, standing vertically. By the time Filch managed to push the cart to the front, where Bagman was waiting for him, the entire hall was rolling their eyes impatiently or glaring at the poor caretaker to hurry the hell up, before they all fell asleep.

Bagman took out his wand, dimmed the lights, and opened the packaging. A flame-filled wooden cup stood on a marble pedestal, bathing the room in its blue light.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is the goblet of fire, our impartial judge of the three most worthy students to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. The selection process starts now and it will conclude on October 30, just before midnight. The participants will be announced during the Hallowe’en Feast in the evening. More information about the tasks will be revealed after the champions are selected. What I can tell you until then is that the three tasks were designed in order to test the champions’ daring, their powers of deduction and how well they cope with danger.”

Bagman’s face darkened.

“A word of advice before anyone decides to put his or her name into the goblet,” he said seriously. “Once you are chosen, you cannot back away without risking severe consequences. Magic doesn’t like being played or made fun of, so when you become your school’s champions, you enter a legally and magically binding contract with no way out of it.”

Absolute silence filled the Hall.

…

During the two months that the goblet stood in the middle of the Great Hall, Aya couldn’t believe just how many people actually went through with it.

“I didn’t know Hogwarts had such a high eager-to-die rate going on,” commented Aya to her friends during one of the study sessions they held in the Great Hall. “No offence,” she added, looking at the twins.

“None taken,” they spoke in unison. “But just imagining those thousand galleons is worth the risk,” they said. “Do you know what we could do with that money?” They looked at each other.

“We could-“

“Finally-“

“Open our-“

“Shop!”

“No matter who gets chosen,” said George.

“We’re in this together,” replied Fred.

“As partners!” They finished at the same time and bumped their fists and did some weird handshake move.

Aya and the rest rolled their eyes, shaking their head at the twins. Only Luna calmly continued reading the newest issue of Quibbler.

…

As Hallowe’en drew nearer, Aya was busy between schoolwork (that Ancient Runes project was killing them, translating the entire fairy-tale collection of Beedle the Bard before New Years’ as practice for the O.W.L. exam was crazy) and making her Hallowe’en cosplay costume in secret.

Before dinner on October 31st, Aya slipped to the abandoned girls’ bathroom where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was. She dressed in a simple white dress covered in blood (fake one of course) that nicely hugged her waist and came below her knees. She proceeded to put on white paint over her face and neck, then covered her hands and forearms in red body paint, drew tear marks in fake blood under her eyes to make it look like she was crying blood, and put some of it into the corners of her mouth as well.

The ghostly apparitions of Marvolo and Gaunt were sitting on the sink, observing the entire transformation process.

“Dearest,” said Marvolo when she finished, “you look absolutely terrifying.”

She laughed. “Why thank you. That was the idea after all.” She inspected her costume in the mirror. “Do you think Voldemort will like it when I send him the picture?”

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t like it,” commented Gaunt, shrugging.

“Exactly,” agreed Marvolo.

She smiled.

She still needed red eyes, but since she wasn’t going to put contacts into her shits, she covered herself with her special blanket to sneak to Severus’ office and ask him to glamour her eyes red.

When she revealed herself to him, he jumped a bit before he could reign in his reaction to her latest choice of Hallowe’en costume.

“At least it’s not real blood,” he said, clutching his chest in relief. “Although how you always make your costumes so believable, I will never understand.”

Once he spelled her eyes red for the duration of the evening and she took a selfie for Voldemort, she covered herself with the blanket again and went to the Great Hall.

Everyone already seemed to be in their respective places. She walked to where Hannah and Susan were sitting, tapped them on the shoulder, and just as they turned back, she revealed herself to them.

When they saw her, they both let out a couple of blood-curdling screams that had everyone in the room wondering what was wrong. As they saw a pale and bloody Aya Potter, a chorus of screams rang through the entire Hall. Some of her fellow students even ended up fainting at the sight of her, while others attempted to offer their help, until they realised it was all part of the costume and that she was completely fine.

“You idiot,” gritted Hannah, slapping Aya’s arm. She laughed. “You almost gave us a heart attack, dammit.”

They were still trying to normalise their breaths, clutching their chests.

“What,” teased Aya, “you don’t like my Hysteria Alice Liddell costume?” She squeezed between them. “And I put so much effort into it. I even asked my father to spell my eyes red to make it more believable.”

Susan swatted her lightly on the back of her head. “You barely made it here on time,” she reprimanded her. “Hannah and I were about to go looking for you.”

“Well, I’m here now and ready for the show to start.”

“Now that the shock our dear Miss Aya Potter’s costume generated has passed,” said Dumbledore with an amused smile, “it is time to begin the feast. We will be conducting the champion selection ceremony after the dinner.”

…

After everyone was full and satiated, Dumbledore stood up and approached the goblet in front of the staff table.

“The part that all of you have been waiting for has finally arrived,” he said dramatically. “The champion selection ceremony. This shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, however, when a champion’s name is called, I would kindly ask them to come up here, and go through the door behind the staff table into the next chamber, where you will be receiving your first instructions in relation to the tournament tasks. “

With his wand, he dimmed the lights to make the goblet’s flames illuminate everything. Its flames were now brighter than before. They danced violently inside the chalice, rising and falling, until for a moment they turned pink and the first charred piece of parchment shot into the air, accompanied by a tongue of fire.

Dumbledore caught it. “The champion representing Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!”

The crowd went wild. His newly founded fan club being the loudest even going as far as waving banners with his face and name being surrounded by hearts and phrases like “Viktor, we love you!”, “Viktor, you are the best!”, “Viktor, marry me!” or Aya’s favourite “Viktor, I want to have your babies!”

Poor guy, she really pitied him.

He walked to the front, gave a nod of acknowledgment towards Dumbledore and the Ministry officials, and slipped through the door behind the staff table.

The next charred piece shot up, and Dumbledore said, “The lovely Fleur Delacour will be competing for Beauxbatons.”

The reaction this time wasn’t as strong as with Viktor, but some of the Hogwarts males dared to whistle in appreciation while others ended up beating on their chests and howling like starved wolves.

Aya was about to hold her head. Just where had the sanity of these people gone? They were acting like savages with completely no self-control. Did this count as sexual harassment? In both cases? She would have to speak with Papa Sev about this, because this wasn’t normal and it was getting out of control.

Fleur followed Krum into the chamber. Just as the goblet spat out the third and final piece of parchment.

“And for Hogwarts, the competing champion will be …” he trailed to make it more dramatic. Every Hogwarts student, whether they put their name in the goblet or not, was paying attention and holding their breath.

“… Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff!”

Hufflepuffs exploded into excited screams and jumped to their feet. Not everyone from the other houses was as excited, especially the twins who were moaning about their lost opportunity to win the money and their dream of opening a joke shop slipping away, but Aya was more concerned over the fact that she didn’t know who he was.

“Congratulations to all three champions,” continued Dumbledore, after Cedric slipped through the same door that the other two had before him. “I offer my condolences to all those who didn’t make it,” he mainly referred to the melodramatic Weasley twins, “but I still hope you will continue to support your schoolmate through this daunting task ahead of him.”

The goblet’s flames became wild again as they spat another piece of parchment. He instinctually grabbed it and looked at it. He paled and stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Bagman and Crouch were ready to intervene, when he finally spoke, “It would seem that Hogwarts will have another champion.”

Beauxbatons and Durmstrang representatives were not happy with this development, but Fred and George were hopeful again.

“The fourth champion … is Aya Potter-Snape-Black.”

This time no one cheered. In fact, there was absolute silence and every head in the Hall was suddenly staring at her.

At first, she didn’t register the fact that her name was called, but when Dumbledore repeated it, louder this time, and her friends were looking at her with worried expressions, she realised with horror what was going on.

Completely numb, she rose to her feet and made her way towards the staff table and the chamber adjacent to the Hall. All the while, her brain was trying to come up with an explanation of what was going on.

‘How is this possible? I didn’t put my name in the goblet. Unless I have suddenly developed a split personality, there is no fucking way that I consciously put it in (pause on that). And even if that was the case, how the fuck could I, a fifteen-year old, bypass the Age Line a much more experienced and competent wizard drew around the goblet? Like, it doesn’t make sense,’ she reasoned in her head.

‘But if it wasn’t me, someone else had to do it. I didn’t ask anyone to do it, so someone had to do it without my permission as a way to get back at me … for whatever reason. And it had to be someone who was at least seventeen. The question now was; who is the motherfucker that dared to do this kind of fucked-up shit to me?’

Her jaw tightened and she fisted her hands.

‘Oh, when I get my hands on the person who did it … they are going to regret it.’

Using the power of controlled breathing and meditation, she managed to keep her emotions under control. She wasn’t going to give whoever did it the satisfaction of seeing her affected in any kind of way.

She passed the staff and students with confidence, then slipped through the door and faced the other three champions, who gathered around the fireplace.

Fleur noticed her first. “What is it?” she said. “Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”

“Uh, no, I just came to join you,” she said matter-of-factly. All three of them looked confused. “It would seem the goblet thought this wasn’t a Triwizard Tournament but rather a Quadrawizard Tournament instead.”

As understanding slowly dawned on them, the sound of multiple footsteps came from behind her. Ludo Bagman, Barty Crouch Snr., Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Maxime, and Severus entered.

Fleur immediately addressed them, “What is ze meaning of zis?” She gestured towards Aya. “Why is she ‘ere?”

“Zat is something I zink all of us would like to know, Dumbly-dorr,” said Madam Maxime imperiously. “I zon’t care if the goblet chose ‘er, ’Ogwarts simply cannot ‘ave two champions. It is most unjust.”

“I agree with Maxime, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, with a dark expression. “Unless we have both misread the rules, no school, host or not, should have two champions. It is called Triwizard Tournament for a reason,” he sneered.

They all looked at Dumbledore expectantly. “I don’t know what to say. Miss Potter shouldn’t have been able to enter her name because of the Age Line, unless …” he trailed off, looking at her, “she asked another student to do it for her.”

Now, everyone was staring at her.

Viktor was eyeing her with suspicion, Fleur looked horrified and insulted, and Cedric looked like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of all this.

A fake and overly sweet smile appeared on her face. “Let me make this clear to all of you; I didn’t put my name in the goblet, nor have I asked anyone to do it for me.”

Severus approached her, wrapping his arms around her in a gentle hug.

“And why should we believe you?” questioned Maxime shrewdly.

Her smile fell and her expression darkened. “Because I have absolutely no interest in the tournament, dear Madam,” she spat with venom. The headmistress looked taken aback at her tone.

“Because no matter what you say about this tournament not being mortally dangerous,” she glanced at Dumbledore and the Ministry officials, “I’m not stupid enough to put myself in unnecessary danger … I’m not suicidal.”

Severus pressed a kiss on top of her head and smoothed her hair. “I know that, Aya,” he whispered softly. “I know that.” She relaxed into him and let his hug wash away the tension in her body.

“Then how do you explain the current situation?” spat Karkaroff.

“There are two possible explanations actually, although one is significantly more probable and possible than the other one,” said Aya matter-of-factly.

“And what would they be?”

“The first explanation is plausible, but highly improbable. If I did manage to put my name in the goblet but don’t remember doing it, this can be explained with dissociative disorder or split personality, where I would be one person during the day and at night I would become someone else.”

All were looking at her with wide eyes.

“However, my daytime personality would not be aware of it or recall the actions of my night-time personality. But even though it is possible for me to be crazier than I think I am, this explanation fails to explain how I, a fifteen-year old, would be able to bypass Dumbledore’s skill and magic. Unless my night-time personality is secretly a powerhouse who could rival Merlin himself, I doubt I could have managed to cross the Age Line with my lack of magical knowledge and skills,” she concluded sagely.

“For that reason I prefer the second explanation, which I dare say is almost definitely 99.infinite 9% accurate, and that is,” she said importantly, “another person, probably with a grudge, entered my name into the competition without my knowledge and permission, because they expect me to …” she trailed off, scrunching her face in confusion. “Actually, I don’t know what exactly they’re expecting to happen,” she concluded lamely.

There was confused silence for a few seconds, before Crouch and Bagman cleared their throats.

“Regardless of who did it and how they did it,” said Crouch, “the rules of the tournament are clear. Those chosen by the goblet must compete.”

“Of course, I’ll compete,” huffed Aya. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint the motherfucker who was kind enough to enter me without even asking me about it now, would we?” she said smiling with her dangerous, overly sweet smile, with fake blood coming out of the corners of her mouth and eyes.

Bagman coughed, Crouch broke out in sweat, Maxime and Karkaroff’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets, Fleur looked appalled, Viktor mildly stunned, and Cedric let out a resigned sigh, already accustomed to her vulgar vocabulary.

“I don’t know who he or she is, yet, but when I do …” There was a dark and wicked glint in her eyes, “I’ll make sure to send them my regards, because no one messes with Aya Potter-Snape-Black without consequences.”

“Id’z still not fair that ‘Ogwarts ‘az two champions,” burst out Fleur, offended.

“I agree, my dear Fleur,” said Aya emphatically, “it’s not fair that our school has two champions, but that’s just how life is, isn’t it? Cruel and unfair. Well … more like other people are, but that’s beside the point right now.”

She approached her with predatory steps and levelled her with a hard look.

“Instead of complaining and whining like bitches,” she hissed, referring to the foreign headmasters as well, “why don’t you shut your pretty ass up and start thinking about how you’re going to win that fucking Cup?”

She jerked back, stunned speechless, gaping like a fish.

“You want the money and glory, right?” she glanced dangerously at Viktor as well, who stiffened at her look, tone and words. “Well then work for it. I might not have become a willing participant in this tournament, but now that I am an official champion, you can be sure as hell that I’m going to do my absolute best to win all the motherfucking trophies this fucking tournament has to offer.”

Bagman cleared his throat again to draw their attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said carefully, “we should move onto the instructions concerning the first task.”

Aya returned to Severus’ side, hugging him, her attention on Bagman.

“Since the first task is designed to test your daring,” he told Aya, Cedric, Viktor, and Fleur, “we are not going to reveal what the task is going to contain. The task will take place on November 24th, in front of the other students and the panel of impartial judges, Mr. Crouch, Minister Cornelius Fudge, Auror Polordhus Trangeles, and me. At the end of the task, you will be scored according to the following criteria: efficiency, how effective your method or methods were in the face of danger; creativity, how creative you were with your performance; and time, how quickly you completed the challenge.”

“Each criterion can bring you ten points, therefore the maximum amount of points a judge can give you is 30. If you manage to impress the entire panel, you might get a chance to earn 120 points with the first task. You are allowed to use whatever means necessary to complete the task.” His expression hardened. “However, you are not allowed to ask for or accept help of any kind from your teachers and mentors. We are trying to assess your talent, knowledge and creativity, not your teachers’,” he levelled them with a pointed look.

Aya wanted to snort and laugh. Oh, please, with how much the pair of foreign headmasters were complaining about how unfair it was for Hogwarts to have two champions, they will try to compensate for that with helping their “chosen ones”.

“And finally, due to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from the end-of-year tests.”

Aya did a double take at that news.

“Hold up,” she said. “What about O.W.L.s? I want and need to get my O.W.L.s. I have not been studying for four years and am now translating The Tales of Beedle the Bard from ancient runes to English just for fun!” she said, agitated, before taking a deep breathe to get herself under control. “I don’t want to wait a year to take my O.W.L.s when I could be continuing with my sixth year.”

Bagman and Crouch looked stunned.

“Actually, I was thinking along the same lines, but in my case for N.E.W.T.s,” said Cedric politely.

“If you think you can manage both the tournament and the exams,” began Bagman, “then I suppose, you can partake in the examination.”

He looked at the rest of the champions and their mentors. “Anything else?”

No reply. Instead, Madam Maxime and Karkaroff have beckoned their champions out of the room, the former talking rapidly and agitatedly in French and the latter in complete silence. Cedric and Aya returned to the Great Hall shortly after, accompanied by Severus.

…

As soon as Aya sat with her friends, Susan and Hannah bombarded her with questions.

“What happened?”

“What is going on?”

“Are you going to compete even though you’re underage?”

“Did they find out how your name got inside the goblet?”

She let out a tired sigh. “I’ll tell you later, okay? Preferably with the rest of the company present as well.”

As the headmaster sent them off to bed, Aya’s group of friends gathered around her, eager to know what the gist of the whole thing was.

“I know where we can talk without interruptions and curious people,” said Luna dreamily. “We just need to walk to the seventh floor.”

They followed her, until they reached a stone wall. Then she walked back and forth in front of it three times, and out of nowhere, a door appeared.

“The room has a lot of names,” Luna informed them, as they entered and found a cosy room with a lit fireplace, a large comfortable sofa, and refreshments. “But we can simply call it the Secret Room. One only has to walk back and forth three times while thinking about what they want from the room.”

They sat down, each with a drink in hand. Once all of them were comfortable, Aya briefly summarised what happened in the chamber with the adults and the other champions. Luckily, all of them believed her when she told them she didn’t put her name in the goblet, and were angered and confused as to who might have done such a thing. Was it a student or an adult? Was it someone from the school or an outsider? Why would they do something like that in the first place? What could they possible benefit from making her participate?

While everyone was busy brainstorming about the identity of the culprit, Aya noticed that Luna was quiet, with a serene look on her face.

She narrowed her eyes in thought.

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you, Luna?” she said with a sly smirk.

The rest went silent and focussed on Luna.

“I did.”

Some of the girls in the group complained about not telling them anything sooner to prevent the present situation from happening. Luna didn’t even budge or flinch, she simply continued to stare into Aya’s eyes. Aya held up her hand to silence Hermione, Ginny, Susan, and Hannah.

“Could it have been prevented?” she asked her.

Luna shook her head. “For the future to unfold in the best way possible, you were destined to compete in this specific tournament.”

Aya sighed, pinching her nose. “Do you know who put my name in the goblet?”

“Yes, but it is still not the time for you to know who it was,” said Luna enigmatically, “or rather on whose orders it was done.”

Aya squinted at her. “Is it safe for me to assume you also know what this bloody top secret first task is going to be?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me?”

“I can tell you that you can get your answer if you decide to take a stroll into the Forbidden Forest on November 20th after curfew. You might want to take your special blanket with you.”

Aya gaped at her. “And why can’t you just tell me what the task is, goddammit?”

“Because I believe seeing the task in person will be much more helpful than what I can tell you.”

Aya shook her head in amused disbelief.

“Can you at least tell me how well I will do?” she tried.

“I could,” said Luna thoughtfully, leaning her head to one side, “but what would the fun be in that,” she concluded smiling.

Aya let out a frustrated grunt. “Fine,” she sighed in defeat. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I will slay this tournament and become the Quadrawizard Queen,” she said with vehemence and determination. “If I am already being forced into this fucking tournament, then you can bet your asses, I’m going for the gold, and nobody and nothing will stop me from coming on top.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know what the Wife of Judas (La Mujer de Judas) (picture 1) looks like or Hysteria Alice Liddell (picture 2), I have posted the pictures bellow, but you can also easily find them on Google images if you enter those two phrases in the search engine.  
> 
> 
> I also strongly suggest you look up the penguin dance to get an idea of how that particular part of the chapter looked like https://youtu.be/O4F1OwAEvrU 
> 
> Next chapter will cover the time from November 1st to November 24th. So, look forward to the first task and the build-up up to it. ;3
> 
> In the meantime, I still welcome guesses as to how Voldemort is spying on Aya and, since there won't be Mad-Eye Moody, Barty is polyjuiced as someone else. I don't think there are many options to choose from, but I would still like to know who do you think Barty is impersonating? :3


	15. Fifth Year: The First Task or How Aya Became Aya the Dragon Slayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't say much what happens in this chapter, hopefully the chapter title is self-explanatory ;) But I would like to encourage you to listen to Tina Maze's song My Way Is My Decision, because I think it fits Aya in general not just this chapter, a sort of Aya's theme, but I do think it goes well with the part where she's facing the dragon :) Here's the link to the song if you'd like to check it out: https://youtu.be/0qcEVMS4sFI
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos :) They always make my day :3 Enjoy the chapter!

The next morning, when Aya entered the Great Hall for breakfast, the reactions of the students were surprising yet at the same time not at all.

She could tell her housemates had mixed feelings over how they should feel about her unexpected, and frankly unfair, participation in the tournament. Zacharias Smith was the most vocal in his disapproval; he thought she was the worst for trying to steal the glory from Cedric and dirtying the traits and reputation of Hufflepuff by cheating her way into the competition.

The rest, however, were surprisingly not trying to confront her openly about it. They limited themselves to sending her suspicious looks and giving her the cold shoulder, but she noticed the wheels in their brains turning that no matter how she entered, Hufflepuff now had two champions representing Hogwarts, and regardless of who won the Tournament for Hogwarts, the glory would go to a Hufflepuff.

The house that surprised her the most was Slytherin. They either let her be and even avoided eye contact or they approached her congratulating her and offering their help and support. Curiously, Draco somehow managed to fall into both categories of Slytherin students. She graciously accepted both, but was wary of the intentions and sudden change in behaviour. There was something fishy going on, and she didn’t like it.

Ravenclaw, though not outright confrontational, let its distaste at her be known and most of the Gryffindor followed suit, with Ronald Weasley at the front. No surprise really. He approached her as soon as she sat down.

“How did you do it?” he spat from behind her.

She looked around for a bit, before focusing on him with a surprised look. “Oh, are you talking to me?” she asked with fake innocence.

He turned beet red from anger. “You think you’re funny, do you?” he said darkly.

Everyone in the Hall was witnessing the conversation with rapt attention.

“I don’t think, Ronald, I am funny,” she said simply. “Just because you don’t like the same kind of humour I do that doesn’t mean I’m not funny. Ask your siblings if you don’t believe me.”

“Leave my brothers and sister out of this, you snake,” he hissed. “I don’t know how Fred, George, and Ginny can be around you,” he sneered, “but you’re nothing but a slimy, twisted and evil snake. You should have been in Slytherin. With how dark and twisted you are, you would’ve fit right in.”

He expected her to react, but she was completely unfazed.

“If you have any objection in regards to my sorting, you can consult the sorting hat, because it was his decision to put me in Hufflepuff and not Slytherin. However, do you want to know what I think your problem is?”

He bristled.

”I think you’re just salty as fuck, because I am a champion and you’re not.”

Some students snickered.

Ronald snorted with fake bravado. “And why would I want to be a champion?”

“Because you want the glory and money,” she said with a forced smile. “Since you couldn’t become the friend of the Girl-Who-Lived and share in the spotlight and my fame, you were hoping to bypass the Age Line with an ageing potion and join the tournament that would bring you just that.”

Ronald’s face contorted into the ugliest grimace she ever witnessed and pointed his wand at her. “Shut up, bitch,” he hissed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

People gasped and Aya’s friends were ready to intervene.

She narrowed her eyes. Before a single syllable could leave his mouth, she was on her feet, grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm behind his back. She applied enough pressure to disarm him and then, with her free hand, she grabbed the back of his head and slammed him face down on the bench where she was sitting a second ago, forcing him to kneel.

“Let’s get something out of the way, shall we?” she said in a dangerously calm tone. “It’s clear to me that you don’t like me and, let’s be honest, I don’t like you either. In fact, saying that is putting it mildly. The only reason I can somewhat tolerate you is because of Fred, George and Ginny. If it weren’t for them and their friendship, you can be sure, Ronald, that you would have faced my wrath a long time ago for how you treated Hermione in your first and third years,” she gritted through her teeth.

Ronald whimpered as she applied more pressure on his head.

“I want to make something very clear, Ronald,” she hissed menacingly, “and to you, Smith, as well.” She glared at her pretentious housemate, who gulped and shrank in his seat.

“From now on, I don’t want either of you to so much as say a word to me, not even to say a ‘Good morning. How are you?’, because I can’t fucking stand the sight of either of you, much less hear your annoying voices.” Her voice was controlled, but she was shaking in supressed rage.

“I’ve been listening to you and your bullshit for over four years, and quite frankly I’m done with it. If I hear you or anyone talking shit about me because of this fucking tournament, I’m going to start smashing some skulls and teeth, until you motherfuckers learn to leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone. And start minding your own business.”

Everyone paled at the threat.

“Unless you’re my friends or family, I don’t have to explain myself to you. I don’t care if you think I cheated my way into this tournament, I just don’t want to hear your thoughts and opinions, because I couldn’t give a shit about them. If you have any complaints, then I suggest you contact the ones in charge of the tournament and the bastard who thought it would be fun to make me participate.”

She released him, but threw him to the side for good measure. “Now,” she snarled, “get out of my sight, before I snap and start pummelling that stupid face of yours.”

Ronald whimpered pathetically and scurried away an all fours. In that moment, all the Hufflepuffs who were experiencing conflicting emotions in regards to her participation suddenly welcomed the idea of having her as a champion. No one was stupid enough to incur her wrath … well, maybe Zacharias Smith, but even he would now think twice before he opened that large stupid mouth of his.

…

After breakfast, she went to her father Severus’ room, where Sirius was waiting for her.

As soon as he saw her, he wrapped her in a tight hug and started fussing over the fact she would be competing in a dangerous tournament while still being underage. Aya simply rolled her eyes and smiled fondly at Sirius’ concern.

“Don’t you think I would have done something by now if there was something I could do, Black?” sighed Snape, pinching his nose.

Sirius looked dejected. “So,” he started carefully, “there’s nothing we can do?”

“I’m afraid not, Papa Siri,” she said gently, rubbing his shoulder. “But don’t worry. I’m going to show them who’s Aya Potter-Snape-Black. I mean, it would be a shame to let my forced participation go to waste, don’t you think?”

Severus and Sirius looked sceptical, but Aya continued in her confident and determined tone. “It’s like how that muggle saying goes, ‘ _If life gives you lemons, make some lemonade_.’” A feral grin appeared on her face. “They want a show? Well, they’re going to get it. I hope they like lemonade.”

Her fathers shook their heads, but wore their signature smiles.

…

When Aya returned to the common room after spending some quality time with her fathers, she found Cedric sitting by the fire, talking with his friends. She approached him.

His friends noticed her first. There was a trace of fear and confusion in their eyes.

“Cedric,” she addressed him. He turned his head her way.

“I don’t want to intrude, but I’d like to have a word with you.”

He looked slightly alarmed. She chuckled at his reaction. “As long as you don’t cross me, you have nothing to fear,” she told him with a grin. He and his friends gulped, some even started to sweat a bit.

She laughed, drawing the attention of the entire common room. “Relax,” she said, “I’m not going to do anything to you. I simply want to talk about the tournament.”

He swallowed hard, but nodded. “Okay,” he said carefully and gestured to the place beside him on the sofa.

She sat down. “Thank you.”

He motioned to his friends to give them space and privacy. When they were somewhat alone, he spoke to her. “What exactly did you want to talk about?”

“Cedric,” she said in her low business voice, “I know we haven’t really interacted in the past four years, but now that we’re both competing in the tournament I thought we could … join forces.”

He narrowed his eyes, intrigued. “I’m listening.”

“I know this tournament is supposed to be each contestant for himself or herself, but it doesn’t have to be. We can team up and work together that way we have a much better chance at winning, but above all surviving this.”

Cedric was processing the suggestion in his head. After a while he said, “Suppose we help each other, just how much help are we talking about?”

“Well,” she breathed, “it mostly depends on the tasks. For example, the only thing we know about the first one is that it is designed to test our daring, but we don’t know what actually awaits us.”

She glanced around the room, then leaned closer in a conspiratorial manner and whispered, “However, I have learned from a trusted source that we can get a peek at what the task is going to contain in the Forbidden Forest after curfew on November 20th.”

Cedric’s eyes widened, clearly a lot more interested. Aya grinned wickedly.

“What do you say, Cedric?” she prompted him, “Are you in?” She offered him a handshake.

He looked at her offered hand, then back at her face.

He shook hands with her. “I’m in.”

“Excellent,” she said with a wide, toothy grin. She was about to leave, when she remembered something else. “Oh and … try not to spread the word too much,” she whispered. “We wouldn’t want the teachers or the officials getting wind of what we’re doing.”

“Of course,” he said, agreeing. “My lips are sealed.”

…

The secret nature of Aya’s conversation with Cedric ignited a wildfire of curiosity and speculation among the Hufflepuffs. But no matter how many speculations and theories developed in the following week, Aya, her friends and Cedric were like graves. Because of that, some started to think there was something going on between her and Cedric.

Aya was baffled. Why did people always assume the worst and always make everything sexual? Like, yes, Cedric was, objectively speaking, good looking, but she was not even remotely interested in him romantically or sexually. Besides, he already had a girlfriend, and she wasn’t interested in breaking up anyone. The only breaking she was interested in was the breaking of bones. But apparently, Cedric’s girlfriend Cho Chang believed the rumours to some extent, if the glares she was sending her way and how she was always marking her territory by holding Cedric’s hand or giving him hugs and kisses in public were any indication.

First, someone forced her to participate in a tournament she wouldn’t enter even if she had been old enough, and now this Ravenclaw girl thought she was trying to steal her boyfriend. Like, fuck everything. She didn’t have the time nor the will to deal with stupid people. That is why she spent the following Saturday afternoon wondering the school corridors covered with her special blanket.

She was walking with a book in her hands when, suddenly, she collided with someone as she turned the corner.

The impact messed up her balance and she fell backwards on her butt. The book she was holding landed on the floor beside her with a thud.

“My apologies, I didn’t see you,” came a male voice from above her and as she looked up, half-visible, she saw Viktor Krum offering her a helping hand while also eyeing confusedly her missing body parts.

As she thanked him and got to her feet, there was the sound of scurrying feet and female voices calling out for Viktor coming from another nearby corridor.

He stiffened and she could see panic in his features. He glanced behind him. “Please, help me escape dose vomen,” he pleaded with desperation coating his words.

Looking at her blanket, she pushed him behind her, told him to duck, and then, just as the members of Viktor’s fan club came into view, she finished draping him with the blanket and turning towards them with the book pressed to the chest and a neutral expression.

“Have you seen Viktor pass through here?” asked what appeared to be the leader of the club, a seventh year Gryffindor female student.

She blinked in confusion. “No, I haven’t seen him at all.”

She and the rest of her were eyeing her with distrust. The leader approached her and hissed in her face, “Either you’re lying or you’re blind if you haven’t noticed him.”

“I was too busy reading a book to pay attention to people around me,” she said, pointing to the book. She felt Viktor tug on the hem of her sweater.

“Well,” she started to move away from them with Viktor behind her and clutching her sweater, “I’ll be on my way then. Good luck with finding him.” She smiled sweetly one last time before walking away from the group.

Once they were out of their sight, Aya looked for the nearest broomstick cupboard and went inside.

“Thank you,” he said visibly relieved. “I am in your debt.”

He returned the blanket to her. She took it. “No problem,” she said smiling. “You know,” she cleared her throat, “if the attention of those girls bothers you so much, you could always issue a complaint or tell them to stop because you don’t like it.”

He fidgeted. “I knov, but … I don’t vant to be rude,” he explained shyly.

Aya gaped at him in disbelief. “These hormonal bitches are constantly harassing you, invading your personal space and privacy … and you’re worried about being rude to them?”

He winced as he realised how pathetic that sounded.

“Who cares if they feel insulted, dammit,” she exploded. “Do you want them to break into your room, tie you up and rape you before you’re finally going to put an end to this madness?”

He paled and started to shake his head.

“Then do something, dammit,” she demanded, swatting his chest. “Are you a man or not?” He nodded. “Are the balls between your legs just an ornament?” His eyes widened at her crude words, but he shook his head nonetheless. “Then fucking grow a pair and put those bitches in their place!” She sounded and looked like a military officer. “Because if _you_ ’re not going to do shit, then _I_ will, because their behaviour has crossed all limits of normality a long time ago.”

She huffed and puffed for a few seconds to get her tamper under control. 

“I suppose I should first offer you a sincere apology on behalf of women and normal students of Hogwarts,” she sighed. “I promise not all women are like that.”

“I knov,” he offered her a reserved smile. “Den I should offer you an apology as vell.”

That took her by surprise. “Why would you apologise to me?”

“For tinking you somehow cheated your vay into the competition.”

“Oh, that,” she said dismissively. “You’re not the only one, trust me.”

“I knov,” he said. “I saw vat happened in the Great Hall last Sunday, and it made me tink about vat you said dat night as vell. It might have been unexpected, but in my eyes, dere iz no question you have the attitude to compete and even vin. I am looking forvard to compete against you.”

She smiled, feeling oddly moved. “Thank you,” she said. “I hope you are prepared, because I’m not going to hold back. I’m going for the win.”

He laughed. “Oh, I von’t be holding back eider.”

She leaned against the cupboard wall with her back pressed against it and crossed her arms across her chest. “So,” she began tentatively, “besides your horrible experience with some of the female populace of this school, how has the rest of your Hogwarts experience been so far?”

He sighed and leaned against the wall beside her in the same posture as her. “The food iz good,” he said after a while.

She laughed, amused. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Good food is very important no matter where you go.”

“Egzactly. Vat else? The school iz nice. Very big. Much bigger and comfortable dan Durmstrang actually.”

She raised her eyebrows in wonder. “Really?”

“Yeah, for example, ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these — though in vinter we have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them.”

“Wow, sounds very austere and military.” She squinted at him, looking at his uniform. “Even your school uniform reminds me of some kind of Siberian war uniform.”

“Vell, our school focuses a lot on martial magic, because ve come from the land of Vikings, and Dark Arts, and has quite a reputation because of dat,” he explained. “I knov that people like Grindelvald and Voldemort give Dark Arts a bad name, but it iz not all dat bad. Did you knov that Dark Arts can be extremely useful and can be used in Healing?”

“I didn’t, but then again, no one here likes to talk about the benefits of the Dark Arts because they all start losing their shit as soon as they hear anything with the word _dark_ in it.”

“Too bad. Dat iz van ting I don’t really like about dis place.”

“And are there many differences between Hogwarts and Durmstrang?” she asked. “Besides the ones you’ve already mentioned.”

“Vell, ve don’t accept Muggle-borns like Hogvarts and because ve are close to the North Pole, dere iz almost no sunlight in vinter and in summer it iz hardly dark.”

“You mentioned Vikings, just how exactly did you get here?”

“Ve travelled by ship.”

Aya’s eyes sparkled. “A ship? Like, a Viking or a Pirate ship?”

“I suppose it does look like a Pirate ship,” he allowed.

“Did you sing any Pirate or Viking sea shanties while sailing?”

“Uh, not really, but,” he added before she could feel disappointed, “some of my classmates have Viking ancestors and like to sing var and sea faring songs in Norse. If you vant, you can come visit us. I’m sure they vould be more than happy to sing for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she smiled, and then added in a sigh, “We should go before people start noticing our absence and start panicking.”

He nodded. “Could you … help me get unnoticed halfway to our dorms?” he said awkwardly.

She laughed. “Of course, I will help you, Viktor. Here, put this on again.”

She handed him the blanket and he crouched before covering himself completely in it. Then, she carefully opened the cupboard door and surveyed the corridor.

When there was no one nearby, she signalled Viktor to follow her and stay close. They walked towards the Entrance Hall, crossed the courtyard, and then headed for the Boathouse, where the Durmstrang Pirate Ship was docked.

As soon as there were no students in the vicinity, they stopped.

“Tank you, Aya, again,” he said as he parted with the blanket. “If there is anything I can do for you to pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it, Viktor,” she said nonchalantly, “I always like to help those who need and deserve it.” Her eyes soon acquired a shrewd look. “Although, there is something you could do, actually.”

“Vat iz it?”

“I know your headmaster is still upset with Hogwarts having two champions in the tournament, and I have a feeling he and Madam Maxime will try to cheat and find ways to help you and Fleur.”

Viktor’s expression turned serious. “I don’t need headmaster’s help.”

“I know,” she said softly, “but what if we helped each other? They didn’t say the champions couldn’t offer each other a helping hand.”

Viktor’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What egzactly does that mean?”

“It means that we, as in you, Cedric, Fleur and me, help each other throughout the tournament by solving clues and puzzles or giving general advice to each other so that we can tackle the tasks, prepared. Right now, Cedric and I have some information that you and Fleur don’t have in regards to the first task.”

Before he could complain or ask, she hurried and said, “It is nothing substantial yet, but if you want to find out what awaits us on November 24th, then you can join us at the edge of The Forbidden Forest after curfew on November 20th.”

He looked unsure, but nonetheless nodded with determination. “I vill be there.”

“Great,” she smiled. “Just don’t say anything about it if you can help it. We wouldn’t want your headmaster to lose his shit over something like this.”

He laughed. “I von’t tell anyone about it.”

“Then I’ll see you on the twentieth, comrade.”

They shook hands and parted ways.

…

Thinking it would be a waste not to read outdoors when she already came all this way, Aya decided to find a quiet spot near some trees where she could read her book.

As she was nearing the Forbidden Forest, she heard noises. Grunts and wood breaking. Curious, she decided to investigate the commotion.

She saw half a dozen trees ripped apart and another was just breaking in half by the trunk as a spell hit it. When it tipped over and landed with a thud, Aya saw a huffing and sweaty Fleur Delacour.

Their eyes met.

“What could have the poor trees done to you for you to be obliterating them in such a manner,” joked Aya, as she slowly approached her.

“What do you want?” Fleur said frowning.

“Nothing,” said Aya light-heartedly, raising her arms in a surrendering gesture. “I simply heard a commotion and came to see what all the noise was about.”

Fleur relaxed her stance a bit and sighed. “I am doing what you said to me.”

Aya was confused. She said a lot to Fleur on Hallowe’en; to what exactly was she referring? “And that is?”

“I zon’t want to be just a pretty face,” she said, determined. “I want to win zat Cup wiz my own strength. So I’m practicing my spell work to be prepared for ze first task.”

Aya was doing her best to smother her grin. “And how exactly do you plan to be prepared for a task you don’t even know what it will entail?”

Fleur blinked in confusion.

“How can you be prepared when you don’t know what you’re preparing for?”

There was moment of silence, before Fleur admitted Aya had a point. “Zen ‘ow do I get ready?” she said, looking like a lost puppy.

Aya wanted to laugh, but instead cleared her throat and said with a sly grin, “Well, you could join me, Viktor and Cedric on the twentieth of this month here after curfew.”

“Why would I do zat?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Aya innocently, “we’re just going to see what exactly the first task is going to be about.”

Fleur’s eyes widened and she gaped at her. “We are not supposed to ‘ave any ‘elp,” whispered Fleur.

“From teachers and mentors,” agreed Aya, “Mr. Bagman never said students or champions couldn’t help each other,” she said shrewdly.

Fleur let out a breathy laugh. “And why should we ‘elp each other? We are rivals, not friends.”

“True,” allowed Aya, “but why would you want to stand by yourself, when you can have people back you up?” she insisted. “Even if the help is coming from your rivals.”

Fleur regarded her with thoughtful eyes. “I see what you are trying to say. The twentieth you said?”

Aya nodded. “After curfew, near the Forbidden Forest.”

Fleur looked like she was debating with herself, but ended up looking at Aya with determination. “Okay,” she said. “I will come.”

Aya smiled wickedly. “Welcome aboard then, Fleur,” she said, offering her a handshake. They shook hands.

“I am sorry,” spoke Fleur after a while, “for ‘ow I be’aved towards you zat night.”

Aya nodded. “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you as well.”

“Don’t be,” giggled Fleur. “You were right about everysing, even if ze words you used to convey your message were vulgar.”

Aya chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah, I do have the tendency to curse a lot. I can’t help it. It’s who I am.”

“ _Oui_ , and violent as well. Not at all lady-like.”

She was probably referring to the incident with Ron in the Hall.

“And what about you?” said Aya. “Why would a delicate and beautiful lady such as yourself want to participate in a dangerous and physically demanding competition?”

“I’m a quarter-Veela,” said Fleur. “Because of zat, males get attracted to me and zey sink zey love me. I don’t know ‘ow many men ‘ave already declared zeir undying love for me and zey always give me lustful looks, and I zon’t like it.”

“So, you have a similar problem as Viktor with crazy fans only that in your case you have to deal with males instead of females?”

“ _Oui_ ,” sighed Fleur dejectedly, “and because of my influence on men, many women zon’t want to be my friends, because zey sink I want to steal zeir boyfriends or ‘usbands.”

“That’s ridiculous,” snorted Aya.

“I understand zem. Some Veelas like ze attention and zey steal ozer women’s fiancés and ‘usbands, and because of zem, ze rest of us get ze bad reputation as well.”

“And you want to change that?” asked Aya tentatively.

“Not really, I want to participate because I am afraid one day some man iz going to become bold enough to force ‘imself on me and I won’t be able to defend myself, and I zon’t want zat. I want to be able to defend myself if it ‘appens. And because I want to become independent.”

“I don’t know if you’ll win, because I plan on doing that,” said Aya matter-of-factly and earned a glare from Fleur, “but regardless of the outcome, I think that by the end of the tournament, you’ll be strong enough to defend your honour if some son of a bitch ever decides to attack you like that.”

Fleur giggled. “I ‘ope so.”

Noticing it was getting quite dark, Aya and Fleur decided to go to the castle for dinner, after they returned the trees to their original state.

As they walked, Fleur mentioned her plans to work at Gringotts, and Aya was proud to say she knew a total of one person who worked there, and that was Ginny’s brother, Bill Weasley.

“If you end up working there, maybe you’ll meet him,” she told her enthusiastically. “He’s easy to spot because he’s so tall and has red hair … and he’s nice. He helped my father and I ward the house to make the use of muggle electronic devices possible without magic interfering.”

…

A week before their agreed meeting, Dumbledore announced a short ceremony called the Weighing of the Wands, where the wand maker Ollivander would test the champions’ wands to see if they were fully functional, which would take place after lunch in the adjacent chamber to the Hall behind the staff table.

After the ceremony, the Daily Prophet would conduct an interview with the champions. Aya was not looking forward to that, because of her history with the newspaper, but as long as Rita Skeeter wasn’t the one doing the interview, she supposed she could get through it.

An idea sparked in her mind. Why submit themselves to the torture individually, when they can face this hurdle together as a team. She immediately wrote her suggestion to all three and charmed the pieces of parchment to fly to them. She waited for their reactions and received a nod from all three. Now if the journalist wanted to be invasive or too personal, they could all have each other’s backs and keep the journalist in check.

The Wand Weighing lasted less than half an hour, presided over by Ollivander, Bagman, Dumbledore and Crouch. After Ollivander declared all four wands in prime and working conditions, it was time for the bloody interview.

…

The next day, their group picture was featured on the front page together with their short interview.

**“TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT AT HOGWARTS: MEET THE FOUR CHAMPIONS”**

_By Eduardus Lima_

**Warning** : This article contains strong language. Proceed at your own risk. Parental supervision and reader discretion are advised.

After Ludovic Bagman, Head of Magical Games and Sports, announced that instead of three champions, as was usually the case for a competition called Triwizard Tournament, there would be a fourth one this year as well, we had to get a closer look at the story behind such a development.

We took the opportunity after the ceremony known as Weighing of the Wands performed by Garrick Ollivander in the presence of the aforementioned Ludovic Bagman, Bartemius Crouch Snr., Head of International Magical Co-operation, and Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to speak briefly with the champions.

With me are Viktor Krum, the champion representing Durmstrang, Fleur Delacour, the champion representing Beauxbatons, and finally, Cedric Diggory and Aya Potter-Snape-Black, who will be competing for Hogwarts.

**First, I would like to thank you for the interview and congratulate all four of you on making it into the competition.**

**Viktor, Fleur, Cedric, and Aya** : Thank you.

**Let us start with your feelings and impressions about the tournament. Were you expecting your involvement, or was it a surprise?**

**Viktor** : Well, for me it vas expected and I have been mentally preparing myself for this since it was announced in September. I still feel honoured to represent my school. I will do my best to win.

 **Fleur** : I suppose it was a bit of a surprise for me. Because there were others from my school who are equally competent if not more than I am, but I was really happy when my name was called, because now I have the opportunity to bring another victory to Beauxbatons and to prove myself.

 **Cedric** : I suppose my reply is similar to Fleur’s. There are many good students at Hogwarts who wanted to participate and who had an equally good chance of being chosen as well, so I was surprised but happy for this opportunity.

 **Aya** : My feelings and impressions, you say? Well, I was looking forward to watching the tournament as a spectator, but apparently, some fucker thought it would be funny if I participated against my will. However, I like to make the best out of whatever situation I find myself in, so now that I am part of the competition, I’m going to win this tournament.

**I see. Well. In less than two weeks, you will be facing your first task. Since you don’t know the contents of the task, how are you preparing yourselves? Do you have any special training?**

**Viktor** : I don’t do nothing out of the ordinary. I will probably improvise when the time comes.

 **Fleur** : I try to keep myself in top physical and mental form with a lot of spell practice.

 **Cedric** : I find it hard to prepare for something I don’t know. All I can do is make sure to have a wide range of spells at my disposal and my wits about me.

 **Aya** : Special training? How the fuck can I prepare myself if I don’t fucking know what I’ll be doing at all? So no, I’m not doing anything special, just normal everyday shit.

**Okay. And do you have any guesses as to what the task will be about?**

**Viktor, Fleur, Cedric, and Aya** : Not really.

 **Aya** : Although since it is supposed to test our daring, I suppose something fucked up. And there are a lot of things that come to mind under that description.

**Last question. If you won the Tournament, what would that mean to you?**

**Viktor** : If I won, it would be the first time ever Durmstrang won the tournament, but it would also make me feel accomplished.

 **Fleur** : If I won the tournament, I would prove to others and myself that I can be strong and dangerous. And with the money, I could become independent until my internship at Gringotts begins.

 **Cedric** : If I won for Hogwarts in front of my fellow students, that would be an amazing honour. I don’t really need the money.

 **Aya** : Well, two things. First, it would be a big ‘ _fuck you_ ’ to the prick who made me participate in the first place, especially, if the other person expected me to die. Second, what do you mean if I won? I will win, dammit. Just watch me slay all three tasks and become the Quadrawizard Queen.

**Thank you for your answers and your time. We will eagerly watch your progress and performance in the tournament. So good luck to all of you.**

**Viktor, Fleur, Cedric, and Aya** : Thank you and you are welcome.

We will write more about the tournament after the champions have completed their first task, where those who were unable to witness the spectacle can read about the technicalities and the results.

…

Despite Aya’s unfavourable opinion of the Marauder’s Map, she begrudgingly and reluctantly accepted the benefits of such device, when she tried to ‘smuggle’ over a dozen people to the Forbidden Forest after curfew.

It was supposed to have been just Cedric and Aya, but after Cedric told Cho about it, she wanted to come as well. Soon after, the rest of Aya’s friends had the brilliant idea to accompany her for moral support and to satiate their own curiosity. Luna already knew what they would see in the forest, but she tagged along anyway. Because why not.

“Dammit people, there’s no way I can fit that many people under the blanket,” she complained in their secret room.

“You don’t have to,” argued the twins.

“Cedric, Fred and I know how to disillusion others and ourselves,” said George, and the other two nodded.

“So we can all go and not worry about being seen,” concluded Fred.

She sighed in defeat. “Fine,” she agreed. “We’ll go together, and pay attention to your surroundings.”

One by one, their forms blended with the background until none of them were visible. “Okay,” said Aya. “Before we leave, also put a silencing charm on your feet, so we don’t make any noise as we walk.”

As they were about to leave the room, after everyone whispered _Silencio_ , Aya remembered something crucial.

“Hey, how exactly will we know if we are all going in the same direction without stumbling into each other and straying from the group?”

“Good point,” said Cedric … probably. She couldn’t tell.

“We should hold hands to form a line,” suggested Luna in her signature soft and dreamy voice.

“Good idea,” agreed Aya, but even so, they were having trouble locating one another.

It took them approximately five minutes to form a line while holding hands and another ten to get to the meeting place with Viktor and Fleur.

Fred volunteered to go in the front, saying, “George and I know every nook and cranny of Hogwarts, so we know all the shortcuts and secret passageways.”

Behind him was George, then Aya, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Cho, Cedric, Astoria, Daphne, Susan, Hannah, and Luna. At least they were supposed to have been holding hands in that order, but since they couldn’t see each other, they weren’t certain.

As long as they arrived at their destination without being caught, they supposed it didn’t matter in which order they were holding hands.

When they arrived safely at the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, they made themselves visible again, because what would be the point of meeting with the other two champions if they couldn’t see each other.

Almost immediately, the figures of Viktor and Fleur flickered into visibility. They were looking warily at all the company.

“Don’t worry about them,” Aya assured them. “Did you wait long?”

“Five minutes at most,” answered Fleur with a shrug.

As she said that, a muffled roar could be heard from the depths of the forest.

All of them exchanged wide-eyed looks.

“You all heard that, right?” said Susan.

They all gulped and nodded, except for Aya. “Let’s go see what it is,” she commented excitedly instead.

The rest of them didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm, but followed her anyway. If they came all this way, they might as well go see what was producing roars like that.

She led them towards the source, and as they navigated their way through the trees and branches, the frequency and loudness of the roars increased. Crouching and hiding behind bushes and trees, they arrived at a clearing where they saw four cages with dragons thrashing and spitting fire.

“Dragons?!” whisper-yelled Hannah. “Are they crazy?”

Even the people dealing with the dragons were having trouble with keeping them inside the cages and under control.

“Didn’t I say in the interview that their definition of daring translates to something fucked up?” whispered Aya to all of them, while keeping her eyes on the dragons, one dragon in particular. “Well there you have the fucked up part I was referring to.”

She shook her head. “Seriously, these people don’t know the definition of ‘no mortal danger’. I bet you they wouldn’t have the guts to deal with the dragons if they were in our place,” said Aya confidently.

“And zey expected us to do ze first task without knowing we would be facing dragons?” said Fleur, affronted. “Imbeciles.”

The rest of them couldn’t agree more.

“Don’t worry, Fleur,” Aya said to comfort her. “Now that we know what we’re up against, everything is going to be much easier.”

The other three champions were not so sure.

“We just need to remember the three categories the judges are going to pay attention for points, which are how creative and versatile we are in our methods, how efficient and how quickly we can deal with the dragons,” she said level-headedly. “We still don’t know what exactly we will have to do with the dragons, and if they are the task itself, but I imagine we’ll have to subdue them without killing them or causing too much damage,” she wondered aloud.

“Makes sense,” agreed Viktor from behind a crouching Hermione.

“As general advice, I suggest you all play to your strengths,” continued Aya. “Viktor, Cedric,” they turned to her, “you play Quidditch, maybe you could use your flying skills and your Quidditch positions to your advantage against the dragons. Fleur, you could use some characteristics of your Veela to deal with the dragon as well. Or you could simply try different spell combinations, the more, the better, but don’t forget that whatever choreography you decide to do, it should be quick and effective, but still enjoyable for the audience.”

Grinning like a maniac and with a crazy and bloodthirsty glint in her eyes, she said, “Besides, you don’t have to worry about that one,” she said referring to the most ferocious and vicious dragon, “because that one is mine. I have a gut feeling I’ll be facing that one, and I already have an idea how to deal with it.”

They all looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“Do you even know what sort of dragon that is?” questioned Neville, gobsmacked.

“No,” she said simply, “and quite frankly I don’t really care.”

“That’s a Hungarian Horntail, the most ferocious and vicious of dragon species.”

“Neville,” she began softly, “after I’m done with it, it won’t be considered the most dangerous anymore, because I’ll whoop its ass, and show it who’s the boss. No dragon is a match for me when I decide to be a badass bitch,” she said confidently.

They all gawked at her.

“Besides,” she flipped her braid, “my Chinese Zodiac sign is a Dragon, so I’m going to roar and spit my fire on the twenty-fourth. The poor Horntail won’t even know what hit it.”

They all threw exasperated looks at her, while shaking their heads. Some even let out breathy chuckles.

“Anyway,” said Aya, returning her attention to the dragons, “Neville, Cedric, Ginny, Luna you all have Care of Magical Creatures, can you tell if the dragons are males or females?”

“It’s hard to tell from the distance,” said Cedric, with his girlfriend Cho gripping his arm, “but if I had to take a guess with the size and their temperament, I would say females.”

Aya nodded. She turned to Luna for confirmation. “They’re nesting mothers actually,” she informed them, “so be careful not to smash any of their eggs. No mother likes to see their born or unborn children massacred.”

“Excellent,” exclaimed Aya happily, “and besides Baby Girl Horntail, can you identify the rest of the dragons?”

“It would be easier to tell in daylight, but since we can’t afford that luxury,” said Cedric, “I think there is a Swedish Short-Snout, Common Welsh Green, and Chinese Fireball.”

“Well, we have a little less than three days until the task, so you better start preparing a strategy that will be able to top mine,” said Aya haughtily.

“And what is that strategy, Milady?” The twins teased her, one on each side.

A feral grin spread across her face.

“That, my boys,” she said sweetly, “is a surprise. You’ll see it with everyone else … okay, maybe not Luna, because probably she already knows what I’ll do, but I have faith that she will not say a thing as to not spoil the surprise.”

“Besides, I wouldn’t want my fellow competitors to steal my tricks,” she said, glaring playfully at the other three. They rolled their eyes, amused. “I gave you a few pointers, now use your brain meat and put them to good use.”

They snickered and giggled.

“I think we should go, we’ve seen enough, and we still have to sneak back to our dorms,” concluded Aya with finality after a while.

They agreed and carefully left the forest. As they reached the outskirts again, Viktor and Fleur parted ways with them (Viktor took a few extra seconds to whisper something into Hermione’s ear and press a kiss to her cheek, which made her blush and got them a few wolf-whistles from the others) to sneak back on the ship and carriage respectively. Just as Fred, George, and Cedric were about to cast disillusionment charms on all of them as well, Cho spoke to Aya.

“Aya, I want to apologise for thinking bad about you,” she said, “I thought you were interested in Cedric and that you wanted to take him away from me … but now, I know you were simply trying to help him in the tournament. Thank you and sorry.”

“Don’t sweat about it, Cho,” she waved dismissively, “I understand you, and if I were in your place and saw an unknown woman getting all chummy with my boyfriend, fiancé, or husband, you can be sure I would have reacted in the same fashion.” She thought for a bit. “Actually, I probably would have been ten times worse, because I’m extremely territorial. Besides, I’m not into breaking up couples and even if Cedric were single, he’s not my type. So we’re cool, Cho, don’t worry.”

She smiled and shook her hand.

“If Cedric is not your type,” said Ginny, “then who is?”

She turned to her with a blank stare, “Certainly not anyone currently at Hogwarts, student or teacher, nor anyone from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons delegations.”

Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

“Is our lady interested in older men?” the twins wiggled their eyebrows suggestively.

“If Demon Lord counts as a much older male, then yes, I am very much interested in older men,” she said matter-of-factly.

They all looked confused.

“Where does one find a Demon Lord?” Hannah questioned no one in particular.

“Most people would not fall in love with that kind of man,” said Luna enigmatically, “but I do think even he deserves to be loved by the right person, despite the monstrosities he’s committed.” She walked up to Aya and placed a hand on her shoulders while staring at her with sage-like eyes. “You will do him good, and he will do you good as well.”

Then, humming, she started moving towards the castle. “Are you coming?” she prompted them, bringing them out of their daze and confusion at her words.

As they walked towards the castle, blended with the background, they couldn’t get one question out of their heads … just who was Luna talking about? Who was Aya’s Demon Lord?

…

In the following days, each champion was busy preparing his or her strategy against the dragons.

Aya took advantage of her horcrux council to get their opinion on parts of the strategy she wasn’t sure what to choose, such as “Should I transfigure the rocks into chains and tie the dragon with them or should I just use _Incarcerous_ to bind the dragon?”

Curiously, each horcrux had a different opinion about it. For example, Tom preferred Incarcerous, while Marvolo preferred transfigured chains. Gaunt thought she should use both.

During the day, she browsed through various Potions books, then asked her father Severus for permission to use his Potions Lab as well as his ingredients, and during the night, she simulated various approaches on a piñata version of the Hungarian Horntail, which spit piping hot caramel instead of fire.

Whenever she finished a simulation, she smashed it to make candy and caramel popcorn rain all over her mental landscape, and all four versions of Voldemort clapped impressed, looking forward to eating some snacks.

…

When the twenty-fourth finally arrived, Aya was more than ready to face the Horntail; in fact, she was itching to show what she had in store for the dragon she would be facing. After putting on her Herbology suit after lunch, she joined the rest of the champions in a tent adjacent to the Quidditch pitch, who were all sending her weird looks because of her outfit.

Once all the champions were gathered, Bagman joined them, holding a leather pouch.

“I see you’re all here, excellent,” exclaimed Bagman with mirth. “Before you start, there are a few things you need to know. In this bag,” he jingled it slightly before their eyes, “there are miniature versions of what you will be facing in a few minutes. Each has a number attached to it, which will determine the order in which you will compete. After you pull the number out, the first competitor will have ten minutes to prepare. The goal of this task is to retrieve the golden egg, which contains the clue for the second task, and cause as little damage as possible,” he informed them.

“After all four of you have completed the task, the judges will take a fifteen-minute break to discuss and calculate the results. After we reach a conclusion, we will call on you and publicly announce the results,” said Bagman. “Now, let’s start with the competing order. Ladies first.”

He approached Fleur and held the pouch up to her. She carefully reached inside, and flinched when she pulled out the miniature version of the Common Welsh Green and number 2.

Bagman moved onto Aya, who was searching for the most restless and energetic figure and after it bit her finger, she pulled her hand out of the bag. Nibbling and hanging from her forefinger was a mini Hungarian Horntail bearing number 4 around its neck.

Bagman fixed her with a grave look. “That’s a Hungarian Horntail, Miss Potter-Snape-Black,” he said gravely, “The most vicious of dragon species.”

She looked at him, completely unfazed. “I know, Mr. Bagman,” she said, picking the dragon by the tail and dangling it in front of her face, inspecting it. “However, after today it won’t be anymore, at least this one,” she assured him. “Because today, I will show it who’s the predator and who’s the prey,” she concluded with a feral grin.

Bagman gulped but nodded nonetheless.

He moved onto the male competitors. Cedric pulled out number 1 and the Swedish Short-Snout, and Viktor was left with number 3 and the Chinese Fireball.

“Now that everyone knows their starting number and the dragon they will be facing, Mr. Diggory, you have ten minutes before the sound of the horn. The rest of the competitors, please, remain on stand-by. Your mentors and the rest of the teachers and students will be watching you from the stands.” He was about to leave, when he turned to them and said, “Good luck to all of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bagman,” they chorused.

He left the tent to join the other judges. Once alone, the champions faced each other. “Alright there everyone?” inquired Aya.

“I think so,” breathed Cedric. Viktor and Fleur nodded as well.

“Good. Let’s rally together like they do in team sports.” She encouraged them to form a circle placing their hands palm down on top of each other’s. “May we all pass this task, and may the most creative, effective and quick among us win.”

They all let out a warrior-like sound and they let go of the hands.

Each of the champions then retreated into their own side of the tent where they either revised their strategy or otherwise prepared themselves mentally for the challenge ahead. Aya felt completely calm and sitting in a lotus position, with hands resting on her knees, she began meditating.

During her meditation, she was vaguely aware of what was going on, but could hear the sound of the horn. From the gasps midway through Cedric’s performance, she could tell there were some complications, but the applause at the end told her he was successful in his endeavour.

Next was Fleur. During her performance, she heard a soothing melody and a heavy thud. Cheers and claps echoed, but there was a shriek right before the final round of applause on her side.

When it was Viktor’s turn, there were cheers even before he started his fight with the dragon, and the cheers and sounds of amazement followed him throughout the entire performance. Whatever he was doing, the crowd apparently loved it.

When Viktor finished, she opened her eyes, stood up, wrapped the belt with her handmade bombs and placed her headpiece with the air supply on her head. When the horn sounded for her, she slowly exited the tent.

…

Her steps were stealthy and measured, while her eyes surveyed the arena. The terrain was rocky with giant boulders and small rubble in between. In the middle was a nest with a golden egg amidst the real dragon eggs, but there was no Horntail in sight.

Still at the edge of the arena, she bent down and grabbed a pebble-sized rock. She moved slowly towards the closest boulder, and then threw it towards the nest.

As the rock hit another rock in the nest’s vicinity, a screeching scream could be heard from behind and above her, as the Horntail landed in front of the nest, trying to protect it. Aya immediately took cover behind a boulder, took out her wand and a smoke bomb, cast _Incendio,_ and then threw the bomb in front of the dragon.

The dragon’s attention was immediately on the fizzing bomb, which started to produce more and more black smoke, until it blocked the dragon’s vision.

Before the dragon could dissipate the smoke with its wings, she liquefied the floor under the dragon and made it into cement. Then, once the dragon’s feet were deep enough, she solidified it.

The Horntail let out a furious screech, and started flapping its wings to break free from the ground and clear the smoke.

“Oh no, you don’t,” said Aya, the mask making her sound distorted and villainous. She transfigured the smaller rocks into steel chains, strengthened by an unbreakable charm, that shot out of the ground and wrapped themselves around the wings and tail, binding the dragon to the ground.

As a last resort, the dragon opened its mouth ready to fire, but Aya simply pointed her wand at her muzzle. “I suggest you calm your ass down, baby girl, and close that mouth, before someone gets hurt. _Incarcerous_ ,” she said as black ropes shot out of her wand and closed themselves around the dragon’s mouth, closing it shut, and the more the dragon tried to pry its mouth open the more the ropes tightened.

Completely helpless, the dragon was thrashing on the ground, but couldn’t break free.

Aya approached the dragon with confident strides and elegant grace, stopping just before the nostrils. She placed a gloved hand on the snout and started petting it in a soothing motion.

“There, there, my baby girl. Don’t get your ovaries in a twist, or you’re going to hurt yourself and your babies.”

She took another bomb from her belt and smashed it in front of the dragon’s nostrils. The muffled roars slowly subsided to helpless grunts and yelps as the creature had its eyes fixed on Aya. Eyes, which were slowly closing, until the dragon remained motionless.

Aya turned away from the beast and strutted towards the nest, then just before it, she took off her mask, shook out her hair, and lifted the golden egg high into the air.

The horn signalling the end sounded throughout the arena as the crowd exploded into cheers, with her friends and Sirius being the loudest as they jumped from their seats and flooded the arena. They pulled her into a hug. She laughed.

Fred and George lifted her up on their shoulders and proclaimed her as Aya the Dragon Slayer, although Dragon Tamer would be more appropriate.

With a _Sonorus_ , Bagman calmed down the crowd, “I’m happy to say that all the champions have successfully completed the task. Now, I would kindly ask the champions to retreat to the tent until we are ready to announce the results. Thank you very much.”

Reluctantly letting Aya return to the tent, her friends returned to their seats, and she joined the rest of the champions.

…

“Dat vas van hell of a show,” congratulated her Viktor, smiling and shaking her hand.

“Thank you,” returned Aya. “I wish I could say the same, but I’m afraid I didn’t watch your performance,” she added apologetically. “But judging from the cheers, you must have been amazing as well.”

He shrugged dismissively, “I just used my Quidditch skills to confuse the dragon, until it vas dizzy enough to lose its balance, and then I flew towards the nest, going directly for the egg.”

Fleur came to congratulate her as well, the hem of her skirt a bit singed, but otherwise completely unscathed. “I took your advice and transfigured some rocks into a xylophone and played a tune to make it fall asleep,” she informed her excitedly, “but zen, a bit of flame from the dragon’s snoring caught on my skirt and set it on fire. Luckily, I quickly used _Aguamenti_ , before it spread.”

Aya was smiling, “Yeah, I could hear the melody and the shriek.”

She turned to Cedric who was sitting on a bed, covered in bandages, while Cho fussed over him. “I don’t want to be rude or anything, but you look like shit,” commented Aya. “What happened out there? I heard gasps of horror midway your performance.”

Cedric winced and hissed in pain as Cho applied a healing paste over his burned exposed flesh.

“I transfigured a rock into a large Snitch to keep the dragon distracted, but halfway towards the nest, the dragon turned its attention to me and caught me with some of its flame on the side of my face and my arm. I ducked behind a boulder, summoned my broom and then flew to get the egg.”

Aya winced sympathetically. “Will it scar?” she said, referring to the burns.

“Madam Pomfrey says that with this paste his burns should heal nicely, but it will take a few days maybe even a week,” answered Cho. “I’m just glad he’s alive,” whispered Cho as she pressed a loving kiss on his good cheek, making Cedric blush a bit.

The other three were trying to conceal their grins.

…

Fifteen minutes later, Crouch came to get them.

As they walked out of the tent, there was no rocky terrain, but a normal Quidditch pitch. Bagman as well as the rest of the judges were waiting for them in the middle of the pitch; all the while people from the stands were cheering and clapping.

Once the noise settled down, Bagman held a piece of parchment with the results.

“Before I read the results from the judges, I would like to congratulate all of you for getting to the next task and not killing or otherwise damaging the dragons and their unborn young. What you had to face today was in no way easy, so regardless of the amount of points you received from the judges, you deserve a big round of applause.”

The crowd responded to that.

“Now, the results. I will start by reading the fourth place and make my way up to the first place,” said Bagman. “In fourth place, with 89 points, is Cedric Diggory from Hogwarts.”

The crowd had a mixed reaction to that, especially Hufflepuffs, but there was applause for Cedric anyway.

“Due to the slight complication, some points were deducted in all three categories, but I still think it was a solid performance,” explained Bagman.

“In third place, with 92 points, is Viktor Krum from Durmstrang.” Durmstrang and Viktor’s fangirls weren’t pleased with this at all, and started booing the judges, while the rest of the students and teachers clapped politely.

“Though an effective way to outwit the dragon, time and creativity were your weakest categories, but otherwise a very interesting performance. In second place, with 109 points, is …”

Aya and Fleur were waiting, hoping to hear the other girl’s name first.

“… Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons,” announced Bagman.

Aya’s friends exploded in cheers again as they immediately knew Aya was in first place, the only question was with how many points. Beauxbatons though slightly disappointed made sure to clap loudly for their champion.

“And in first place is Aya Potter-Snape-Black with an astounding 118 points. Congratulations!” exclaimed Bagman as the crowd went wild, especially Hufflepuff but the rest of the Hogwarts houses were cheering as well.

“There were only two points deducted in regards to time, but otherwise a perfect score in efficiency and creativity. A truly astounding and amazing performance. It was a delight to watch you tame such a ferocious beast without even breaking a sweat.”

All four judges shook hands with Aya congratulating her in a similar fashion. The three headmasters joined them on the pitch as well.

Before they could leave, however, there was one more announcement. Bagman undid his _Sonorus_ and gathered them in a circle.

“Before you go off and celebrate your achievement, the headmasters and I would like to inform you of an event that will take place on Christmas Day.”

“What event?” asked Aya.

“The Yule Ball, Miss Potter-Snape-Black,” replied Bagman. “It is tradition to have a Yule Ball whenever the tournament is happening.”

Aya tried to mask her horror at the news.

“Do we have to attend?” inquired Aya, hoping she would be allowed to skip the event.

“I’m afraid you have to, Miss Potter-Snape-Black,” said Bagman sympathetically. “The champions are required to open the Ball after all. Take this opportunity to relax a bit before deciphering the next task, which will take place on February 24th.”

Aya felt dismayed. It’s not that she didn’t like dancing, because she did, she simply didn’t want to do it in front of strangers who are going to assess her dancing technique, her posture, her dress, her hair, her make-up or lack of it. Not that she cared what others thought, but … _Na-ah_. She would much rather stay in bed sick, playing the newest instalment in the Tomb Raider franchise, than attend the Ball.

An idea occurred to her. She knew how she would dodge this bullet, and she knew the people who could help her with it. But for now, she pushed it out of her mind, and joined her family and friends at the edge of the Quidditch pitch to celebrate her first victory.

‘One down, two more to go,’ she thought to herself, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first task of the tournament is behind us, but before Aya can face the second task there's Yule Ball. I hope you liked the fact that Aya decided to co-operate with all the champions, because honestly, I missed some solidarity and interaction between all four champions in the canon.  
> I won't say much what happens in the next chapter, just that Aya will snap and go savage on a few people. ;) And there will be some smut between my secondary pairing :3 
> 
> Now, two questions for you:  
> 1\. Do you think Aya will successfully avoid attending Yule Ball or will she have to comply with the rules and attend the Ball?  
> 2\. If you believe she will attend the Ball regardless of her wishes, who will her dancing partner be? Place your guesses in the comments. ;)
> 
> And remember, you can still place your guesses as to who Barty is impersonating instead of Moody. :)  
> Until next Friday!


	16. Fifth Year: Trouble before Yule Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter contains graphic descriptions of physical violence and a graphic sex scene between two males. Anyone who is sensitive to either is advised to proceed with caution or to skip this chapter altogether.
> 
> As briefly mentioned in last week's notes, Aya goes berserk in this one and it might not sit well with everyone. Also, Severus and Sirius get together and have sex in this one. Other than that, nothing much happens in the chapter.
> 
> If you want to see the level of savageness that was the inspiration behind Aya's outburst, I will leave you a list of links with soap opera scenes that heavily inspired me to write this chapter. I then tried to create my own choreography and dialogue, but you can clearly see where I got certain parts of the beating from. So ... without further ado, here are the links (there are probably other similar scenes in other soap operas, but those were the main source for me and this chapter ... and don't worry if you don't understand it ... I think you can infer from the context that it's probably insults xD):  
> AMOR A VIDA-Paloma da uma surra em Aline - https://youtu.be/6tL-9B37AGE  
> Surras Históricas Morena X Wanda - https://youtu.be/barhLB11OAc  
> BIBI ENFORCA CARINE - A FORÇA DO QUERER - https://youtu.be/LQ3yqZsK4ms  
> Bibi Perigosa- As Melhores SURRAS e BARRACO com Carine - https://youtu.be/KbEOLHUeRyE  
> AMOR A VIDA-Pilar da uma surra em Aline - https://youtu.be/ciahBAIKyE4

The news about the Yule Ball plunged the Hogwarts students into a frenzy. All fourth year and above students were panicking over their dancing partners, as if their lives depended on it. ‘Idiotic fools,’ thought Aya. As if this Ball was the most important event that would happen in their entire lives. Truly pathetic if that was the case for some.

Aya was more than happy simply to observe the chaos that resulted from the news, while secretly planning on how to evade it, but an incident at the beginning of December pushed her over the edge.

It was no secret to Aya and her friends that Viktor fancied Hermione and that in turn Hermione fancied Viktor. Therefore, it was no surprise when they heard Viktor asking Hermione to the Ball the day after the announcement. What did surprise them was Hermione rejecting Viktor’s invitation and then proceeding to avoid him like a plague.

Whenever she would so much as see him at a distance, she would already flee the room or turn the other way. She would try to make it seem like she forgot something or was going to the library to study for O.W.L.s, but her female friends knew something was wrong.

When she started appearing in their electives without assignments or books, and was overall distracted enough to make obvious mistakes in her Arithmancy calculations and mistranslate runes, they finally decided to confront her about it in the secret room.

“Okay, Hermione, what’s happening with you?” asked Aya.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Hermione, because we’ve been friends for long enough for me to know when something is not okay with you. So stop evading the subject and just tell us.”

“Aya’s right,” said Hannah, “you’ve been distracted a lot lately, you’ve been losing or misplacing your things, you even said no to Viktor’s Ball invitation.”

Hermione averted her eyes. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind recently, that’s all,” she assured them.

Aya was not convinced. “Hermione,” she said in a threateningly calm way, “either you tell me what’s happening or I’m going to Luna. I’m sure she would be happy to share your ailments if you don’t.”

That alarmed Hermione. “No, please, don’t. I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

“We’re your friends, Hermione,” said Susan, “we are here to help you get through hard times. Don’t be afraid to open yourself up to us.”

“If you’re absentminded because of your confused feelings for Viktor, then that’s okay,” said Aya. “We are here to listen to you and give you advice if you need or want one. However,” a dark look crossed Aya’s face, “I have a feeling this has something to do with those fucking bitches that call themselves Viktor’s fangirls.”

Hermione paled a ghostly white and looked like she was about to faint. This was enough to tell Aya that her second guess was more than accurate.

“What did those bitches do to you?” she asked calmly. Hermione averted her eyes and started to fidget a lot.

“Nothing much.”

“Define nothing much,” pressed her Aya.

Hermione gulped, starting to breathe heavily. “They … have cornered me a few times, saying I should stay away from Viktor if I knew what was best for me,” choked out Hermione.

Hannah and Susan sat next to her, rubbing her back. Aya sat opposite her with an unreadable expression.

“I did as told,” continued Hermione, “I rejected Viktor’s invitation and even started avoiding him, but because Viktor continued to pursue me and kept asking me to the Ball, they continued to harass me by incinerating my homework and school books.”

The windows shattered. Hermione, Susan, and Hannah shrieked. The next moment, Aya stood up with a glare and walked towards the door.

Hermione jumped out of her seat and hurried after her. “Aya, please, don’t,” she begged desperately, holding her arm to prevent her from leaving and doing something stupid.

“Let go of me, Hermione,” said Aya in supressed rage.

“They’re just books and parchment; they can be replaced,” argued Hermione.

“Of course they can be replaced, but your effort and time cannot,” said Aya vehemently.

“Please, don’t do anything,” begged Hermione. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”

Aya breathed heavily, flaring her nostrils each time she inhaled.

“Okay,” she whispered after a long beat of silence, relaxing a bit. “This time I won’t do anything, because you asked me, but if those bitches ever harass you again, no one is going to stop me that time, Hermione, not even you. Because someone has to put an end to their delusions once and for all, because this has gone too far.”

…

The next day, just as Aya sat down to eat lunch with Hannah and Susan; Luna approached them in a panic.

“Hurry, Hermione is in danger,” was the only thing she said, before all three of them were out of their seats and running towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

On their way, they bumped into a group of five laughing Gryffindor girls ranging from fifth to seventh year. Aya only glanced at them, but vaguely recalled some of them chasing after Krum on the corridors.

Putting Hermione’s safety and well-being first, they continued their way to the bathroom, only to find her half-conscious on the floor clutching her stomach, with red and swollen cheeks and a split lip near the sinks.

“Hermione!” they exclaimed as they hurried and knelt beside her. Pained grunts and moans escaped her mouth as tears trickled down her temple.

Hannah gently placed her head on her lap, stroking her hair, while Susan went to wet a paper towel to wipe Hermione’s face with a cold compression.

“Hermione?” Aya called gently, dread lodged in her gut and throat. Hermione slowly blinked a few times and shifted from her foetal position. “Hermione, can you hear me?”

She looked her way through hooded eyes. “Aya?” she whispered.

“I’m here, Hermione. So are Susan, Hannah, and Luna,” said Aya stroking Hermione’s red and swollen cheek. Susan returned with a compression and pressed it to her cheek.

Hermione tried to sit up, but as soon as she moved, she cried in pain and clutched her stomach even tighter. “Sh, easy, easy,” Hannah told her, “don’t move if it hurts.”

“What happened?” Susan prompted her.

Hermione started shaking her head.

“Hermione,” intervened Aya, “was it those Gryffindor bitches again?” She looked at Aya with tears in her eyes. “Hermione, tell us everything; who it was and what exactly they did to you,” insisted Aya.

Hermione swallowed hard, but started talking anyway. “The same group of girls that have been burning my things ambushed me in the hallway on my way to the Great Hall, and dragged me to the bathroom,” she narrated, while Susan was cleaning the blood from her lip.

“Two of them were holding my arms and tugging my hair, so that I couldn’t escape or evade the punches to the stomach and slaps to the face of the other three.” She hiccoughed. “Once they finally let go of me and I was on the floor, the eldest of the group kicked me hard a few times … I don’t know their names, the only one I recognised was Lavender Brown.”

“Weasel’s girlfriend?” exclaimed Hannah.

“Sh, it’s okay, Hermione, don’t worry, I know at least one of the bitches by sight,” said Aya with deceiving calm. She turned to Susan and Hannah.

“Susan, Hannah, I want you to take Hermione to the infirmary so that Madam Pomfrey can check her for internal damage,” she instructed them, “I’ll join you in half an hour or so.”

They were immediately wary.

“What are you going to do, Aya?” said Susan carefully.

“What I should have done yesterday,” said Aya ominously.

“You’ll get in trouble; you’ll get points deducted and detention for sure. What if you get expelled or disqualified from the tournament?”

“I don’t _fucking_ care, Hannah,” she hissed viciously. “They can take all the _fucking_ points from Hufflepuff; they can give me detention for the rest of my schooling, they can expel me and disqualify me. I’m willing to take whatever punishment they decide to give me, because I will not let _anyone_ do something like this to Hermione or _any_ of my friends and walk out of it unscathed.”

Hannah and Susan exchanged brief looks but nodded their understanding.

“Be careful,” whispered Susan.

“That bitch won’t be able to land a single hit on me.”

“Give her a good one,” said Hannah darkly.

“Oh, I will give her and her friends a thrashing they will never forget,” smirked Aya dangerously.

They left, supporting Hermione on both sides, with Luna closely behind them. As the door closed, Aya’s look darkened even more and she walked with predatory steps towards the Great Hall.

When she entered, her eyes immediately began searching the Gryffindor table. When she located them, she approached the group with the same predatory steps, her eyes never leaving the back of the leader’s head.

As soon as she reached her, she grabbed a fistful of her sandy hair and dragged her out of her seat.

The girl’s hand immediately flew up to where her hair was being pulled as she let out a shriek of surprise and pain, alerting everyone in the Hall to the commotion.

“Get up, you _bitch_ ,” hissed Aya, as she pulled her to her feet and before the other girl could react; she punched her in the gut, making her gasp and double over in pain.

“Did you like that?” prompted Aya with a mad glint in her eyes.

The girl coughed and yelled, “Someone help me!”

Aya pulled her hair and punched her in the face to shut her up. “I asked you a question,” she gritted through her teeth. The force of the punch split her lip and sent the seventh year girl to the ground, where Aya proceeded to kick her hard several times.

KICK! KICK! KICK! “Where’s your bravado now, _bitch_?” KICK! “ _Where_?” KICK! “Where’s the bravado you had when you attacked Hermione in the _bathroom_?” KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK!

“MISS POTTER!” the yells of the professors rang through the hall, “STOP THIS AT ONCE!”

They tried to separate her from the much taller and older girl, but no spell seemed to reach them as a force field formed around them.

Aya ignored everything and everyone around her, as she grabbed the screaming Gryffindor bitch by the hair again and lifted her to her eye level, then started to slap the living shit out of her.

“This is for Hermione, _bitch_.” SLAP! “This is for her burnt _books_.” SLAP! “This is for her ruined _homework_.” SLAP! “This is what you _deserve_.” SLAP! “I’ll make _you_ -” SLAP! “And your _friends_ -” SLAP! “ _Pay_ -” SLAP! “For every _kick_ -” SLAP! “ _Slap_ -” SLAP! “ _Punch_ -” SLAP! “ _Insult_ -” SLAP! “ _Threat_ -” SLAP! “ _You_ -” SLAP! “And your _friends_ -” SLAP! “ _Gave_ -” SLAP! “And _said_ -” SLAP! “To _Hermione_.” SLAP!

As the last slap landed on her cheek, Aya flung the other girl so hard, she landed and skidded off the table, making other students shriek and move away, and causing the dishes, food, drinks and cutlery to spill and crash everywhere.

Everyone was now on their feet trying to get a better and closer look at the fight. Older Slytherin male students were even cheering Aya on by chanting her name in unison. “Aya! Aya! Aya! Aya! …”

Before she followed the bitch by vaulting over the table, Aya turned to the other four girls who were also involved and slapped all four of them in quick succession, making them scream and clutch their cheeks. “You’ll get yours, after I’m done with _her_ ,” she promised them in a dark tone.

She vaulted over the table and saw the bitch trying to get away, still calling for help.

“Where do you think you’re going, ha?” snarled Aya, as she grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her, yelling and kicking, towards her. “We’re just getting started.”

Then, she straddled her back, grabbed her by the hair and started to smash her face hard on the ground. She smashed it once, twice, thrice.

The professors were now trying to get to them physically, but the Slytherins and the Weasley twins were purposefully blocking their way towards them.

By the time she smashed the other’s face for the sixth consecutive time, a blood puddle formed on the ground, and there were a few teeth lying around. The girl didn’t even move or scream anymore, whether it was because she lost her consciousness or the energy to scream, Aya didn’t know nor did she care. She was like an enraged animal mother trying to defend and avenge her hurt cub.

“Aya,” someone called to her, but she didn’t stop. “Aya, stop it, you’ll kill her.” She managed to smash the Gryffindor’s face two more times, before there was a pair of arms hugging her from behind, trying to restrict her movement and separate her from the injured Gryffindor student.

“Let me go!” snarled Aya, trying to shake off whoever was behind her. “I still have a few things in store for that piece of human shit!”

McGonagall was kneeling next to the motionless girl, trying to turn her over so they could see the extent of the damage, but Aya still had a firm grip on the girl’s hair.

As the person behind her picked her up, she was trying to hold onto the girl. She didn’t manage to do it, however, she did manage to tear out a handful of the girl’s hair, leaving a small bald patch behind.

After McGonagall saw the barely recognisable face of the seventh year Gryffindor student (broken and bloody nose, bloody mouth, blood coming from her forehead and brow, swollen and bruised left eye and cheek), she and some of the students gasped horrified at the sight.

She then turned to Aya and said, “In all my years of teaching, I have never seen such savagery, Miss Potter.”

“She’s crazy, Professor,” cried Lavender. “Only a crazy person is capable of something like that.”

Aya looked at her with an unnerving look. “What did you say?” she whispered calmly. Lavender looked panicked.

“Go on,” prompted her Aya. “Repeat what you just said.” Lavender remained quiet. “Repeat it if you have the guts!"

“You’re crazy,” said Lavender, trembling.

“I’ll show you crazy, _bitch_!” Aya slapped her hard across the face, then grabbed her by the hair with both hands and started shaking her head violently in every direction.

“Won-Won, help me!” she shrieked as she was trying to pry Aya’s hands from her hair. Ronald Weasley simply stayed out of Aya’s sight and reach, ignoring his girlfriend’s cries for help.

Severus tightened his grip on Aya, but she started shaking him off again, until a force flung him backwards together with McGonagall.

“Let me go!” screamed Lavender. “I did nothing. I swear I did nothing!”

“Oh, so _you’re_ one of the two bitches who were holding Hermione so she couldn’t escape or defend herself from the _punches_ ,” concluded Aya, as she kneed Lavender in the stomach and gave her a few hard slaps, each eliciting a yelp of pain, before shoving her at the table.

She turned to the third bitch who immediately tried to run away but some Slytherin girls blocked her way, letting Aya catch up to her, drag her back by the hair, spin her around, and punch her; first in the stomach, making her double over and gasp in pain, and then in the face. The force behind the second punch pushed her backwards over the table.

The fourth one tried to get Aya unaware, but Ginny saw her raise a cup, trying to smash it on Aya’s head, and immediately intervened, grabbing her by the arm and calling for Aya.

Aya spun round and saw the cup fall from the girl’s hand. “You wanted to attack me from behind?” she asked calmly. She picked up a cup herself and splashed the liquid into her face, then proceeded to slap her and manoeuvre her face down straight into a plate full of soup. After that, she grabbed an empty plate and started smashing the girl’s head hard with it, while she continued to drown her in the soup.

“I warned _you_.” SMASH! “I warned you _not_ -” SMASH! “To _mess_ -” SMASH! “With _me_ -” SMASH! “Or my _friends_.” SMASH! “Did you think you were an _exception_?” SMASH! “Or that I was somehow _joking_ -” SMASH! “About _that_?” SMASH!

She faced the fifth and final bitch, smashing her face with the plate she was still holding, knocking her to the floor. She managed to land a few kicks and hits, before she threw the plate at her head and a couple of cups as well.

It was then that Severus picked her up again, restraining her arms.

“Miss Potter,” McGonagall’s voice rang through the Hall, “that’s enough!”

The rest of the professors were now offering their help to the four other girls and were looking at Aya with disbelief.

“Aya, calm down right now, before I decide to force-feed you a Calming Draught,” Severus said into her ear.

She stopped, but her breathing was still erratic and her expression wild.

“500 points from Hufflepuff for physically assaulting your fellow students and causing them bodily harm,” stated McGonagall, “your Hogsmeade rights are revoked and you will be serving detention until further notice.”

Aya smirked and chuckled. “You think I care about all that? Take all the fucking points you want from Hufflepuff, give me all the fucking detention you want, I don’t care if I never go to Hogsmeade again, but I will _never_ ,” she spat through her teeth, “regret beating those bitches to a pulp nor will I ever apologise to them, because that would be disrespecting Hermione.”

“She’s crazy, I tell you. Crazy!” shrieked Lavender still clutching her hurt cheek from behind Professor Sprout.

“If I’m crazy, then you and your friends are ten times crazier than I am! Because in what right mind is it okay to gang up five against one and attack someone simply because they have caught the fancy of a man, who as far as I know is single and more than free to invite and fall in love with whoever he sees fit?” yelled Aya.

The professors were looking between Aya and the attacked girls in confusion.

Aya sneered. “You are so quick to deduct points from me for giving these bitches what they deserve, but what about them, ha? Will you punish them for what they did?”

“What are you talking about, Miss Potter?” inquired McGonagall.

She turned to the bitches, who were now trying hard to disappear into the background. “Why don’t you tell Professor McGonagall and the rest of the school what you did just a while ago, ha?” Aya prompted them with a mad glint in her eyes. “I’m sure they would be _delighted_ to hear what _outstanding_ people get sorted into Gryffindor.” Sarcasm was permeating every word.

She tsked after none of them spoke. “How the mighty have fallen. A house known for housing chivalrous, brave, courageous people has begun producing cowards and human garbage of indescribable magnitude,” said Aya in a loud voice. “I’m sure Godric Gryffindor is turning in his grave right now.”

Gryffindor students looked insulted, while Slytherin students were snickering and sneering, enjoying the show.

“GO ON!” exploded Aya after a while. Professors and students flinched; the bitches from Viktor’s fan club who were still conscious cowered in fear. “Tell them how for the past couple of weeks you’ve been burning Hermione’s books and homework, maybe even her other belongings, because Viktor asked Hermione to the Yule Ball and not a single one of you!”

Professors and students looked horrified at the dishevelled and injured girls.

“Tell them how today you ambushed Hermione in a corridor, dragged her into a deserted bathroom, knowing no one would go there, and attacked her as a group! Two of you were holding her by the arms and hair so she couldn’t escape or evade the punches, slaps and kicks from the other three. When Susan, Hannah, Luna and I arrived, Hermione was barely conscious on the ground, clutching her stomach, with red and swollen cheeks and a split lip!”

Even Slytherin girls were disgusted, shaking their heads disapprovingly. Ginny, the Weasley twins, and Neville looked like they wanted to get a few hits on the girls as well. Professors looked sick thinking something like that could happen at the school. Lupin and Severus suddenly had a moment of déjà-vu to their time at Hogwarts as students with James and Sirius ganging up on Severus while Peter and Remus watched, only that instead of fists, they used curses and hexes.

McGonagall turned to the four Gryffindor girls, completely appalled. “Miss Brown, Miss MacDuff, Miss Winikus, Miss Wax, is what Miss Potter claims true? Did you assault a fellow housemate … because of envy and jealousy?”

“If you want confirmation, professor, go to the infirmary,” offered Aya instead, “where Madam Pomfrey is checking Hermione right now, for internal injuries. Lord knows how many times they punched and kicked her.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. Viktor was making his way through the crowd, to get to the Entrance Hall; he was probably going to the infirmary to check on Hermione.

Aya heaved out a sigh. “I simply decided to pay them back in kind … only ten times worse. At least now and for the next couple of days their leader, who was the main perpetrator of all the attacks, will finally be able to see herself for what she really is … human garbage.”

She spat on the girl still unconscious on the floor.

“200 points from Gryffindor … each, that’s 1000 points in total, for assaulting a fellow housemate in such a cowardly and uncouth manner,” announced McGonagall shaking. “Five against one? If I wasn’t your teacher, I would personally curse and hex you six ways to Sunday,” stated McGonagall in suppressed fury. Aya was impressed.

“We will inform your parents about your foul behaviour, as well as revoke your Hogsmeade visiting rights and give you detention. You will also replace every single one of Miss Granger’s burnt belongings.”

“And they should also redo all the homework they burnt,” added Aya. “If it’s any less than outstanding, you will keep redoing it until you manage to do it in the same quality Hermione does her schoolwork.”

“Good idea, Miss Potter,” McGonagall praised her. “However, as a teacher, I cannot let you go unpunished, so all the punishments still stand, regardless of your motivation.”

“Like I said,” returned Aya, “I’m willing to take whatever punishment you decide to give me, but I don’t regret my actions. And if I could make another suggestion, Professor McGonagall, I think you should pay closer attention to _all_ students.” She encompassed all the students with her forefinger and a glare. “Because ever since Durmstrang and Beauxbatons delegations came, Hogwarts has started to resemble a zoo in mid-mating season instead of a school and some of the students have turned into savages, losing all self-control.”

She turned to McGonagall. “We wouldn’t want another similar incident happening or something even worse, would we?”

“Of course not,” bristled McGonagall. “All the professors and prefects will pay more attention to what is happening within these school walls.”

“Good,” nodded Aya, “because Viktor and Fleur don’t appreciate the kind of attention females and males of this school are giving them, and we wouldn’t want our foreign guests to feel uncomfortable during their stay, isn’t that right?”

Some of the students shifted uncomfortably in their place, averting their eyes.

“Pomona,” said McGonagall, “could you please levitate Miss Vanity to the infirmary?”

“Of course,” said Professor Sprout and levitated the unconscious Gryffindor student towards the Entrance Hall.

“Remus, go to the Kitchens and inform the House Elves of what happened and if they could provide food and plates for the Gryffindor table.” Remus nodded and went towards the Dungeons.

McGonagall turned to the other four. “You will go to the headmaster’s office immediately and we’ll contact your parents.” She signalled them to follow her. “You too, Miss Potter,” she said as she passed Aya.

“No,” she refused, “I’m not going to the headmaster’s office. Not before I’ve visited Hermione in the infirmary.”

McGonagall nodded. “You have half an hour. If you’re not in the headmaster’s office by then, I’ll come get you myself.” She wagged her finger in Aya’s face. Aya nodded. Minerva turned to Severus.

“Severus, as a parent you can be present as well,” she told him. “Maybe tell Sirius as well.”

He nodded. “I will do that.” He tugged Aya towards the Entrance Hall. “Come Aya.”

She followed him without resistance and protests and as they stood at the bottom of the giant staircase, he turned to her. “I will firecall Sirius and explain the situation to him while you go visit your friend Hermione,” he said gently, smoothing her dishevelled hair.

“Okay,” she nodded, letting Severus fuss over her appearance.

“Would you like a cup of tea after we finish talking with the headmaster?”

“I would like that,” she smiled. “Just don’t put anything in it,” she added. “I will walk it out.”

He chuckled. “Alright. No Calming Draught for you.”

He hugged and kissed the top of her head, before letting her go and going their separate ways.

Just as they turned away from each other, a female voice called to her. “Aya, wait!”

She turned towards it and saw Ginny, Neville, Fred, George, Daphne and Astoria hurrying towards her, each with a plate full of food.

“We’ll go with you to see Hermione,” said Ginny.

“I don’t mind, but what’s with all the food?” said Aya, amused.

“Since you-“

“Susan-“

“Hannah-“

“Luna-“

“And Hermione probably haven’t even had a bite for lunch-“

“We might as well have a picnic in the Hospital Wing,” concluded the twins.

She smiled tiredly. “Thanks, but I’m not particularly hungry right now. With all the adrenaline still pumping in my system, I don’t feel hungry at all. But the rest of the girls will surely appreciate it.”

“All the same,” insisted Ginny. “Even if it’s just a few bites. Better that than nothing.”

…

They took the shortcut to the Hospital Wing.

Susan, Hannah and Luna were sitting beside Hermione’s bed, while Viktor was sitting on it, holding one of Hermione’s hands in his and gently stroking her cheek and hair with the other. When Madam Pomfrey saw them with the food, she immediately admonished them.

“Oh, come on, Madam Pomfrey,” complained the twins. “We’ll be careful not to make a mess.”

“See that you don’t,” warned them Pomfrey, “otherwise, you will clean everything.” She returned to the other patient.

Hannah and Susan approached Aya excitedly.

“Yo, we saw the state of that bitch,” began Hannah, grinning wickedly. “You really went ape shit crazy, ha?”

“Viktor told us, but damn, I wish I could have seen it in person,” said Susan.

“Yeah,” said George. “It was glorious. We should all get a copy of that memory and replay it as often as we want.”

“Agreed,” said Fred, then something occurred to him as he said, “George, we should try one of our products on the other four as revenge for Hermione.”

George’s eyes sparkled. “You’re thinking about the one I’m thinking?”

Fred wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.

They turned to Ginny. “Yo, Ginny … we need your help with something.”

“What is it?”

“We’ll talk later, once we return to the Gryffindor Tower.”

She rolled her eyes.

Aya smiled with melancholy as she approached Hermione’s bed and sat next to it. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” whispered Hermione and she did look a lot better, “but my stomach and face still hurt.”

“Was there any internal damage? Did those bitches break anything?”

“Luckily, nothing was broken,” said Susan, “but she has some internal bruising on her stomach. So a lot of rest and as little strenuous activities as possible, and a few doses of Wiggenweld Potion and in a couple of days she should be fine.”

“Fred and I have a paste that removes bruises,” said George. “If you want, we can give some to you Hermione, completely for free.”

She chuckled. “Thanks, George, Fred.”

Aya sighed in relief and combed her fingers through her hair. “I’m glad it was nothing serious,” she whispered. “I just wish-” her voice broke, and tears filled her eyes. “I wish I had gotten to you sooner,” she whispered, blinking her tears away. Susan and Hannah rubbed Aya’s back in soothing circles. “I wish I had done something about those bitches sooner. I wish I could have protected you from the harassment and the pain.”

A strangled sob escaped her, as tears fell from her eyes. Hermione, Susan and Hannah hugged her, and she fiercely hugged them back. Soon the rest of her friends joined as well.

“I know I don’t say it often enough,” she choked out, “but I hope you know I love you.” Her breath trembled. “And that I would do anything to protect you, because you’re all like family to me.”

“We love you too, Aya,” they chorused and she smiled through her tears.

…

“Severus,” moaned Sirius with a hand around his cock and his nose buried in one of Severus’ shirts, seeking his scent. Images of a dishevelled, naked, sweaty and grunting Severus, touching, licking, sucking and fucking him filled Sirius’ mind as he pumped his erection.

“Fuck, Severus,” he cursed breathlessly.

His breath accelerated and, as he was approaching his orgasm, his breathing turned rugged and shallow, and his pumps faster. Little spasms shook his body, until he finally climaxed whispering his name and strings of sperm covered his hand, stomach and chest.

Heaving, trying to catch his breath, Sirius lay on his bed, recovering from another of his masturbating sessions. It was his third that day and he had already lost count of how many times overall he’d masturbated to Severus fucking him in different places and positions, whispering dirty words into his ear, biting and scratching, filling him up with hot cum. Whether he was on the receiving or giving end, it didn’t matter as long as he got to feel him in some way.

Just as he vanished the traces of his orgasm, Kreacher appeared out of nowhere, informing him of a firecall and almost giving him a heart attack. As he stumbled to the drawing room, he saw Severus’ face inside the flames.

“What took you so long?” asked Severus impatiently.

“I was … taking a nap,” he said, hoping it was believable given his dishevelled appearance.

Severus squinted at him suspiciously, then sighed and said, “Look, Black, you need to come here. Aya got into a fight with five Gryffindor female students, one ended in the Hospital Wing; the others are currently with McGonagall in the headmaster’s office calling the parents. Aya has to go there as well and as her parents we should be there as well, supporting our daughter.”

Sirius’ eyes were wide like saucers. “Right,” he said. “I’ll be right there, just let me freshen myself up a bit.” He disappeared into the toilet.

Less than ten minutes later, he was flooing to Severus’ office at Hogwarts. Slightly out of breath, he asked, “What happened? Is Aya okay?”

Severus simply gestured towards his Pensieve and said, “Why don’t you see for yourself.”

He walked up to the Pensieve, submerged his head in it and observed Snape’s memory of the fight in the Great Hall. Ten minutes or so later, he came back to the surface, facing a strangely quiet and absentminded Severus.

“Our pup sure gave those girls hell,” said Sirius.

“She sure did,” agreed Severus, lost in thought.

“I can’t believe they would go so far as to physically attack Aya’s friend, because Viktor Krum fancies Hermione.” He shook his head disbelievingly.

Severus sneered. “It does make one wonder about certain things and certain people, when something so despicable happens.” He looked at him with a hard look. “Doesn’t this situation feel familiar to you, Black?”

He was confused. “What are you talking about, Severus?” Severus simply continued to look at him with that accusatory look, without saying a word. “What’s wrong, Severus?” prompted Sirius, stepping closer to the other.

“It’s like history is repeating itself with a few alterations. A gang of girls calling themselves Viktor’s Fan Club, cornering and attacking another girl because of envy and jealousy, only that instead of curses and hexes, they used muggle means.”

Understanding dawned on Sirius. “I see … So we’re back to this again … The past.” Severus averted his eyes. “I thought you wouldn’t dwell on it after that talk we had almost two years ago.”

“I know,” hissed Severus, “It’s just …” He carded his fingers through his hair. “When Aya started describing what happened to Hermione, I just … remembered the times you and Potter would corner me to insult and attack me …”

Sirius wore a pensive expression. “Do you still hate me, Severus?” He stepped closer to him.

Severus was looking at him with confusion and uncertainty.

Since he wasn’t flinching away, Sirius dared another step towards Severus. “Would it make you feel better if you punched me?” he said.

That proposition elicited a look of surprise from the Potions Master.

He turned a cheek towards him, tapping it a few times with the palm.

“Go on,” he encouraged him. “Do it. Because Merlin knows if Aya had lived in our time, she would have whooped our asses in a beating we would have never forgotten and would have quite rightfully deserved.”

Severus looked tempted to punch him, but something was apparently holding him back. Sirius stepped even closer, and was now just a few inches away from the man he’d been fantasising for the past year or so.

His eyes flitted to Severus’ lips, he could feel his breath on his face, he wanted to kiss and ravage him … but before he had the chance to do anything, the door to Severus’ office opened, and Aya entered.

He whirled around and went to greet her. “Hey, pup,” he said cheerfully, kissing her forehead. She greeted back. “What’s this I’m hearing … you got into a fight?”

She huffed. “If by fight, you’re referring to the one-sided beating I gave to those five Gryffindor bitches, then yes, I was in a fight,” she said nonchalantly. “And I have zero regrets about it.”

Sirius erupted in laughter. “Come, pup,” he said, ruffling her hair and steering her towards the corridor. “Let’s get the meeting with Headmaster over with, so we can have a cup of relaxing tea as a family.”

…

The meeting in the headmaster’s office was an interesting affair. Half of the parents were appalled by the actions of their daughters and agreed to pay for ruined textbooks and anything else and didn’t complain about their daughters’ punishment; while the other half didn’t see anything fundamentally wrong with what happened.

Mrs. Brown went as far as insulting Hermione by saying, “For all we know that other girl deserved the beating anyway. She was probably insinuating herself and opening her legs for popular boys.”

At that accusation, Aya saw red again. “Shut your muzzle, you _cow_!” she lashed out by slapping Lavender’s mother, before anyone could interfere and stop her. After the slap, she grabbed her firmly by the hair and started shaking her.

“I thought I was clear in my letter to the Daily Prophet last year,” she spat contemptuously. “No badmouthing the people I love and care about!”

Mrs. Brown shrieked, while Mr. Brown, who was the closest, tried to separate them.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” she exploded and slapped the man so hard, he did a three sixty.

She returned her attention to Lavender’s mother, but now Sirius, Severus and McGonagall were all trying to get her away from the woman. She shook them off, but lost balance in the process and both of them tumbled, with Aya landing on top of the older woman.

She manoeuvred the woman’s arms beneath her knees and with nothing blocking her face, she began assaulting it, alternating between slaps with her palm and slaps with the back of her hand.

“Someone help me! Get this little Death Eater spawn away from me!”

After the sixth one, she grabbed her by the hair again and started banging the back of her head on the floor. She only managed to do it four times before her parents and McGonagall finally managed to restrain her and lift her off the screaming woman. But even all three of them, two fully grown males and an adult female, were having troubles keeping her restrained.

“Miss Potter, control yourself for Merlin’s sake,” McGonagall raised her voice. “Don’t give me more reasons to deduct points from Hufflepuff.”

“I already told you, Professor, that I don’t give a fuck about house points,” huffed Aya, “especially when this _bitch_ dares call Hermione a whore.”

She glared at the dishevelled woman. “You don’t know Hermione, so don’t even dare say anything about her! Unlike your daughter, Hermione is a thousand times better woman than your daughter will ever be, and Viktor knows it.”

The mother looked insulted.

“That’s why he’s pursuing Hermione, and not any of you.” She looked at the four girls with a sneer.

Before things got heated again, McGonagall intervened. “Regardless of what you think, Mrs. Brown, you will partially pay for Miss Granger’s burnt belongings, whether you like it or not, and your daughter and her friends will be punished for their actions,” she said sternly. “They will lose their Hogsmeade visiting rights for the rest of their schooling and they will have detention until the end of this school year with all Hogwarts Professors, starting with Professor Snape.”

She turned to the Potions Master. “Is that alright with you, Severus?”

He nodded.

“And if they attempt anything similar in the future, they will be expelled, no matter what.” At this, she glared at Dumbledore, who curiously hadn’t said or done much since the meeting started.

She turned to Aya and said, “And you, you will also lose your Hogsmeade visiting rights for the rest of your schooling and you will be serving detention for the rest of the school year with Mr. Filch.”

Aya had no objections to that. In fact, she wanted to grin. Detention with Filch meant she got to pet Mrs. Norris as often as she wanted, and Lord knew poor Filch needed help to keep up with the size of the castle, so she would be more than happy to help him.

…

Aya, Severus and Sirius returned to Severus’ office for a cup of tea. “Tea is all fine and dandy, but right now I wouldn’t mind something with a bit more punch,” said Sirius, exhausted and out of breath, after he collapsed in a chair.

“Dammit, pup, I knew you had a lot of energy, but I never thought it would be so difficult and tiring to keep up with your strength,” he complained. “Shit, I haven’t been this out of breath since the refurbishing.” ‘Since my last masturbating session,’ he said in his mind.

“I wasn’t going to let that bitch insult Hermione,” countered Aya. “And don’t think I don’t feel tired. My arm muscles hurt from all the slaps and punches I dished out today, but fuck it, it was worth it,” she said satisfied, relaxing in her chair.

Severus returned with three cups. Sirius accepted his with a thank you. Aya eyed her tea, before drinking. “I hope you didn’t change your mind in regards to the Calming Draught after the outburst during the meeting.”

“I promised I wouldn’t put anything in it, and I keep my promises,” said Severus, as he sat down with his cup of tea in hand.

After fifteen minutes or so, Aya finished her cup. “Thank you for the deliciously brewed tea,” she said, standing up and walking up to Severus to press a kiss to his cheek and give him a hug, “but I’ll be on my way to the infirmary again, to keep Hermione and the rest of the group company.”

She repeated the same gesture with Sirius and then left the two of them alone in the office. Sirius turned to Severus. “I still need that drink,” he whispered.

Severus agreed. “I wouldn’t mind a sip either.” He got up to get the bottle of fire whiskey he kept just in case.

He poured a glass for Sirius and only a sip for himself.

Sirius emptied his in one go, and when he set the glass back down, he had to shake his head a bit. “Is that what they call victim blaming, what Mrs. Brown was doing?” he asked with a lost look.

“Yes,” answered Severus. “It’s the mentality ‘she probably deserved whatever she got, because she is such and such’, completely dehumanising her and shifting the blame onto her. The same kind of mentality you and Potter had actually.”

“I stand by what I said, Severus,” said Sirius determined. “You are more than welcome to punch me.”

He turned to him, closing the distance. “In fact, I would strongly encourage you to punch me right now; otherwise I will do something that I’ve been dying to do for more than a year now.”

Severus looked at him with a strange expression. “What are you talking about?”

Instead of saying it, he decided to show him what he meant by grabbing a fistful of the front of his robes, pulling him to him and smashing their lips together.

Severus’ eyes widened in surprise. Black was kissing him. Why was Black kissing him? Moreover, it was also his first kiss and Black took it … just like that?

Getting over his initial shock, he pushed Black away. “Have you completely lost your mind, Black?” he hissed, glaring at Black and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“No, not yet anyway,” said Sirius, looking like a predator, “but I will lose it soon if I don’t fucking touch you and fuck you in all the ways I’ve been fantasising for the past year or so.”

Severus looked horrified at that idea. “I will never let you fuck me, Black, never!” he hissed vehemently.

“I don’t care whose dick is up whose ass, Severus,” said Sirius crassly, “I just need to feel you, do you understand?”

“Not really,” he gulped.

“I don’t know what you did to me, but ever since Aya praised the living shit out of you and ever since we started our drinking encounters with either tea or juice, I can’t get you out of my head.” He jabbed his temple with a forefinger, not taking his eyes off Severus’ eyes. “It’s like you’re stuck in my system and no matter how many times I try to distract myself by playing Mario Kart, Resident Evil, Call of Duty, Doom, Grand Theft Auto, Devil May Cry or Mortal Kombat, or doing meditation and yoga, my thoughts always come back to you.”

“And what?” prompted Severus with incredulity. “You think you’ll be able to get me out of your system if we fucked once?”

He grabbed him by the shirt again. “I want you, Severus Snape,” he said with vehemence. “I want you tonight and tomorrow and the day after that, a week from now, a month, a year, until my dying breath, because I doubt one good fuck will get you out of my system if thousands of masturbation sessions couldn’t achieve that.”

Severus stared at him, searching the other’s face and eyes for any sign of a prank. Unless Sirius Black had become an extremely good actor, there was no mockery in his expression and words, only earnestness.

“You’re not joking,” he breathed, feeling at a loss. Because no one had ever said something like that to him. To think Black of all people would say something like that. The irony of life at its finest.

“I may joke and be dismissive about a lot of things, Severus,” he whispered, cupping his face, an inch away from his lips. “But I would never joke about this.”

He kissed him, gentler this time. Severus let him and even responded, opening his mouth, letting Sirius’ tongue explore his. In turn, he returned the favour by experimentally licking the inside of Sirius’ mouth, eliciting a guttural moan.

Black’s arms snaked around his hips and pulled him flush against his body, while his kisses turned more eager and demanding.

Moving from his mouth, Sirius kissed Severus’ chin and covered his neck in wet kisses, licking and lightly nibbling. “Black,” he grunted, feeling lightheaded and fisting Black’s shirt. “I am still not letting you fuck me … I have never-”

Sirius cut him off with another kiss, grinding his clothed erection against Severus’, and grabbing and squeezing his ass.

“Me neither,” let out Sirius in between gasps. “Like, at all.”

Severus looked at him, unconvinced. “You, the Casanova of Gryffindor, a virgin?” he scoffed disbelievingly.

“Believe it, Severus.” He ripped the front of Severus’ robes and undressed his torso. “You’re kissing and about to fuck a thirty-six-year-old virgin,” he said in between kisses, pushing him gently towards his private chambers.

As they reached the bed, Sirius pushed Severus on it, then, taking off his own shirt, he straddled Severus’ hips.

“What happened to all those … conquests?” Severus couldn’t quite grasp the idea of a virgin Sirius at thirty-six.

“For all my bravado and charm, you can’t imagine how often I was rejected by men and women, when I wanted to get some action,” said Sirius, kissing and licking Severus’ chest, earning gasps and breathy grunts in return. “I still remember girls slapping me every time I suggested casual sex. I could have gone to a prostitute, but even I have standards,” he huffed. “What if I got some weird disease? I’d rather masturbate every time I feel the urge to have sex and stay healthy than feel satisfied for a few moments and be saddled with a sexually transmitted disease for the rest of my life.”

Severus let out a breathy laugh. “I can’t believe this.”

Sirius was now kissing his navel, and was unbuttoning his trousers, trying to get to the erection.

“So …” he gulped as Sirius freed his erection and gave a few experimental pumps, “you’ve never done the fucking nor have you ever got fucked?”

Sirius shook his head. “You?” he asked him. “I know you have never been fucked, but have you ever done the fucking part?” Severus shook his head. A smug grin grazed Sirius’ lips. “Good.”

He licked his shaft from the root to the tip in one long swipe of his tongue, then opened his mouth and slowly began to swallow him. As Sirius’ warm mouth enveloped him, Severus jerked and let out a moan. When Sirius began bobbing his head, Severus felt himself tense and something was building up in his groin.

He grabbed one of the pillows to muffle his voice, but Sirius immediately stopped what he was doing. “Don’t do that,” he growled, flinging the pillow away. “I want to hear you. After imagining how your moans and grunts of pleasure would sound, you’re not going to take that away from me.”

Severus shivered, not expecting this to turn him on so much. Sirius retuned his attention to his weeping cock.

It wasn’t long before he was cumming into Sirius’ mouth with a strangled moan and a scrunched up face, fisting the bedsheets under him and holding onto them as if they were his lifeline. Out of breath, he lay there, with hooded and glazed eyes, pupils blown wide.

When Sirius climbed on him again, this time completely naked, he welcomed his kisses and caresses. “You’re delicious,” he whispered against his skin. “But then again I’ve never tasted anyone’s cum before … nor do I particularly want to.” Severus trembled with want at the praise.

“Do you have something that could act as lube?” asked him Sirius, eager to have Severus’ dick inside of him.

Still recovering from his orgasmic high, Severus managed to say, “I have lotion in the nightstand. Is that good enough?” he asked in between gasps.

Sirius immediately stretched over to the nightstand to get his hands on the lotion. Then he whispered a cleaning spell at his anus, uncorked the bottle and generously coated his fingers. He reached behind and began massaging his entrance.

He let out a guttural moan as his eyes closed at the sensation. Severus observed Black’s face with attentiveness, as he slowly prepared himself. “Touch me,” moaned Sirius. “Touch me, Severus.”

Taking some of the lotion and coating fingers on both of his hands, he used one to touch Sirius’ dripping erection, while the other joined Sirius’ hand and replaced it with his fingers. Gasping, Sirius sought Severus’ mouth and threaded his fingers in his hair.

Severus grazed something inside of him that made him moan and shudder. He grazed it again, and again, until Sirius was a moaning mess on top of Severus, begging him. “Fuck me, Severus,” he gasped. “Fill me with your cock and fuck me so hard I will feel you for days to come and I won’t be able to walk normally for at least a week.”

Severus felt turned on by his words as his dick twitched to life again.

“Keep talking, Black,” pressed Snape smugly, licking Sirius’ earlobe, his hand still pumping his dick and his fingers abusing his prostate. “Keep talking about what you want me to do to your body.”

He grazed Sirius’ entrance with the tip of his cock, teasing it. Sirius grunted. “Ravage me, Severus. I want you to use my ass and mouth to pleasure yourself. I want you to touch me and I want to touch you.”

Severus teased his entrance a few more times. “Just fuck me already, Severus,” he snarled impatiently. “I need to have you inside, _now_.” He reached behind to squeeze Severus’ erection and pressed it to his entrance, slowly impaling himself on it.

Severus grabbed his hips and let out a hiss as a tight heat enveloped his shaft again. “Ride me,” he snarled, squeezing Sirius’ erection. “Ride me hard and fast.”

He gave a few experimental and shallow thrusts, until pleasure replaced the uncomfortable pressure and he began moving his hips with more energy.

He threw his head back, moaning, and supported himself against Severus’ pectorals. As he bounced on him, Severus met his movements with his thrusts.

Halfway through, he changed their positions, with him still inside and Black under him. He kept up the rough pace, assaulting Sirius’ prostate with each thrust. Black wrapped his legs around his hips desperately clawing at his back.

“I’m close, Severus,” he moaned into his ear. “So close.”

“Me too.”

A moment later, he let out a hiss as Sirius scratched his back and bit into his shoulder. “Mark me,” he urged him. “Mark me, Severus.” He returned the favour by biting into Black’s shoulder as well and scratching his hips.

They changed positions again just before they reached the climax. Severus buried himself deep inside Sirius and emptied his seed in him with a groan, while Sirius covered their stomachs and chests with his sperm and collapsed on top of Severus, trying to catch his breath.

“This was amazing,” he gasped with a grin. “Even better than what I imagined.” Severus grunted in agreement. He lifted himself up on his forearms and looked at Severus’ face. “We’re definitely repeating this. Maybe next time you will let me fuck you.” He kissed him.

Severus swatted him lightly. “We’ll see about that,” he said. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We just had our first time together and you’re already thinking about the next time we will have sex.”

He laughed and peppered Severus’ face with kisses. “What can I say?” Kiss. “I loved it.” Kiss. “And I want to repeat it.” Kiss. “Over …” Kiss. “And over.” Kiss.

Severus circled Sirius’s waist and deepened the kiss.

…

They were lying in bed together, the trace of their lovemaking removed, but still naked and in a half embrace.

“Does it hurt?” asked Sirius all of a sudden, tracing Severus’ Dark Mark.

He looked at the vibrant black tattoo on his left inner forearm.

“Strangely, it doesn’t,” answered Severus, confused. “The intensity of the black suggests that the Dark Lord is getting stronger, he might even have acquired a body, but he’s completely inactive.”

Sirius frowned in thought. “You mean, it seems like he could have been doing what he was doing before his defeat, but instead he’s just chilling?”

“Something like that,” agreed Severus. “He’s probably planning something, but still. The tattoo not itching at all when it’s almost pitch black is disconcerting.”

Sirius snorted. “A Dark Lord on hiatus.” His expression turned serious. “I suppose that as long as he leaves Aya and us alone, I don’t really care what he does.”

“I suppose so,” agreed Severus, moving closer to Sirius, who immediately embraced him fiercely and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

…

Aya was walking towards the Hospital Wing when Gaunt and Marvolo suddenly materialised beside her and said, “Aya, behind you.”

“Move to the right.”

She dodged the incoming spell from behind, then slowly turned and came face to face with the four bitches.

She slowly walked up to them, with an unnerving look on her face. “Which one of you cast that spell at my back?” she asked with deceiving calm, glancing at all of them.

“The second one from the right.” Marvolo said into her ear. Aya’s gaze landed on that one. It was the same bitch, who tried to attack her from behind in the Hall as well.

“You don’t learn … do you?” she closed the distance between them and the rest of them whipped out their wands as well, pointing them at her.

“Four against one,” she grinned. “I’m honoured.”

“We’ll see who will be smiling after we get back at you for what you did to Emma and what you did to us,” said the whatever-her-name-was.

Aya got closer to the sixth year. “And what are you going to do to me?” she prompted her.

“Don’t worry, Marvolo and I will protect you from any incoming spells like we did in the Hall,” whispered Gaunt.

Knowing she was safe; she went straight for the bitch’s neck. “You know what, _bitch_ ,” hissed Aya, squeezing her neck and manoeuvring her against a wall. The other let a strangled yelp as her hands went to Aya’s forearms to loosen the grip; her wand clattered on the ground.

Three simultaneous spells came at Aya from behind, but Marvolo and Gaunt erected a protective force field that absorbed the spells.

“You know what?” repeated Aya lowly through her teeth, shaking in rage. “I am tired of you and your bullshit.” She lifted her by the throat, so that she was dangling a few inches off the floor.

The bitch looked like she was about to piss herself.

“From now on, you and the rest of your little group will stay the hell away from me and my friends,” snarled Aya. The other was gasping for air. “If I so much as hear from Ginny, Neville, Luna or the twins that you’ve been snooping around Hermione and her things, I swear the beating I gave you earlier will seem like a joke for what I plan to do to you. So don’t try me, because I’m losing my patience.”

As she was talking, dense and pitch black energy oozed from Aya in waves that transformed into tentacles as it wrapped itself around the other three’s necks as well.

All four were getting blue in the face, but Aya continued to cut off their air supply.

“Aya,” said Marvolo, “we have company.”

“On the right,” added Gaunt.

She glanced in the direction Gaunt indicated and saw a pale and terrified Draco Malfoy.

“Will you look at that,” she chuckled. “A prefect has come to the rescue.” She continued to hold the bitch in the air, digging her fingers into her throat, but kept eye contact with Draco.

“What are you going to do Draco?” she prompted him. “Will you help them or will you just stand there enjoying the show?”

He gulped. “If you don’t let them go, they’ll die,” he said carefully.

“Maybe that’s what I want,” insisted Aya calmly, with the same unnerving and dangerous look that let people know they have awoken a sleeping dragon.

She turned her eyes to the half-asphyxiated bitch in front of her. “Because I’ve never wanted to kill someone as much as I want to kill these four … plus their leader.”

The bitch’s eyes were rolling back into her head and saliva was coming out of the corners of her mouth; the other three were twitching on the floor, barely conscious.

Before she snapped someone’s neck for good, she let them go, the bitch she was holding fell like a ragdoll at her feet, coughing, gasping and clawing at the throat.

“You should thank Draco for his intervention,” sneered Aya. Then her eyes darkened again, and she kicked at the bitch’s legs. “Get out of my sight, before I change my mind … and make sure to pass on my warning to your dear Emma after she wakes up from the thrashing I gave her.”

They looked at her with terror as they scrambled away whimpering and sobbing.

“Pathetic,” sighed Aya when she was alone with Draco.

She levelled him with a predatory look. “And you Draco?” she said, taking a step towards him. “What will you do about this incident? Are you going to report me? Say I tried to kill four bitches today?”

She was up in his face and to Draco it felt like a single wrong word from his mouth would mean his demise.

He swallowed hard, looking away. “No,” he choked out.

She was satisfied. “A wise decision,” she said lowly. “Because I’ve reached a point where I will obliterate anyone who so much as looks at me and my friends the wrong way. I’m _this_ close,” she held her thumb and forefinger tightly together, “to snapping and sending everything to hell … and you can be sure you don’t want to be on my bad side when I lose it.”

She turned away and walked with grace and elegance towards the Hospital Wing, taking her heavy and asphyxiating energy and presence with her.

…

“It’s a shame you lost the Hogsmeade visiting rights,” sighed Susan, “but we can still go to trips outside of school.”

“Of course we can,” said Aya, smiling, “and we will. Of that you can be sure.”

She looked at the two lovebirds, where Viktor was spoon-feeding a blushing Hermione. Hermione insisted it wasn’t necessary, since she could use her arms perfectly well, but Viktor wouldn’t have any of that.

“So …” she began, smirking mischievously, “Hermione, you finally took pity on our poor Viktor and said yes to his Yule Ball invitation?”

Hermione blushed even redder, but nodded nonetheless. Viktor was beaming as well, as he leaned forward and kissed Hermione’s cheek in front of everybody.

“Go, Viktor!” yelled the twins. Neville wolf-whistled. Most of the girls squealed excitedly. Hermione shyly returned the kiss and buried her face in Viktor’s neck in embarrassment. Aya simply laughed.

“If you end up having sex at the Ball, don’t forget to use protection,” said Aya, after clearing her throat.

“Aya!” squealed Hermione with indignation. “We’re not even dating.”

“Vould you like to?” immediately offered Viktor. She looked at him completely gobsmacked.

“I don’t know, Viktor,” she said uncertainly. “Aren’t we moving too fast?”

“Ve’ll go as fast or as slow as you vant, Herm–own–ninny,” assured her Viktor, caressing her cheek and pressing his forehead to hers. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy as vell.”

There was a chorus of sighs. “Oh, Viktor, you’re such a romantic.”

…

After dinner, Viktor carried Hermione to the portrait.

While the lovebirds were in their own little world, Aya spoke with Ginny, Luna, Neville, Fred and George about paying attention if one of those rabid fangirls so much as spoke to Hermione or tried to do anything and immediately informing her. She was not taking any risks. She wouldn’t let another similar incident occur if she could avoid it.

Before they said goodbye and went their own ways, the twins promised Aya a surprise at breakfast. She was intrigued. She could already guess it would involve the bitches who hurt Hermione, but not what exactly they had in mind.

Completely exhausted, she collapsed into her bed, with the diary pressed to her chest.

As soon as she materialised in Tom’s world together with Marvolo and Gaunt, the other two horcruxes raced to the youngest with smug grins.

“You won’t believe what you missed today, dear Tom,” teased Marvolo from one side.

“What?” he looked from one to the other, confused. “What did I miss?”

“Only three amazing confrontations between Aya and a group of bitches,” said Gaunt dismissively from the other.

“What?” he turned his gaze to her. She let out a tired sigh. She really didn’t have the energy to reply.

“Yeah, a group of five girls ambushed and beat up one of Aya’s female friends,” explained Marvolo.

“And Aya gave them a thrashing of a lifetime. She even sent one to the Hospital Wing, unconscious.”

“We helped a bit, of course, by protecting her from spells.”

“But during the last encounter, pure and dense black energy just oozed from her and started asphyxiating the other three bitches while she was strangling the fourth one with her own hands,” sighed Gaunt dreamily.

“I want to see,” Tom said excitedly.

He took her by the arm and transferred all four of them to Aya’s mental landscape. They looked for the horcrux inside Aya, then joined him in the chocolate Jacuzzi, watching the three memories Marvolo and Gaunt were referring to earlier and eating candy.

As they were eating and drinking smoothies and milkshakes, the horcrux inside Aya offered a milk chocolate bunny to the youngest. “Try this one. When you bite into its head, there is gooey caramel inside for brain.”

Tom thanked him and accepted the bunny, then turned his attention back to Aya, slapping the living shit out of the other bitches, and bit into the squirming chocolate bunny’s head.

When the last memory ended, Tom was so invested, he wanted to watch some more.

“All the times you want, Tom, until sunrise,” chuckled Aya good-naturedly.

They ended up replaying the memories at least a dozen times more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... how was it? 
> 
> Did you enjoy the smut? (It's my first smut scene in a very long time so I suppose I'm quite rusty xD) As for Sirius being a virgin ... for some reason I see him as such. I mean, he spent most of his youth concerned with bullying others, fighting a war and then being incarcerated and after he got out he was more concerned with being a good godfather to Aya and getting himself in shape, mentally and physically, that he just didn't go out and as he said it in this chapter, despite how hyperactive and needy he can get, he still retains enough good sense to not just sleep around with random people.
> 
> In the same vein, did you enjoy Aya's outburst? If not ... then that's okay as well :3 Not everyone likes this kind of a reaction to solve problems. And before you ask, no, I'm not from Brasil or Portugal, I understand some Portuguese because of Spanish and exposure, and no, I'm not a native Spanish speaker either xD I just study it.
> 
> Next week the Yule Ball is finally happening, so, you can still guess what Aya will do: if she will attend the Ball at all and if so with whom. :3 and the diadem horcrux will make an appearance and will join Aya's horcrux council :D And ... Voldemort is going to make an appearance ;3 Interpret that however you please ;3


	17. Fifth Year: The Yule Ball, Diadem Ramses and Moriarty

The next morning something curious happened. Five different male students, aged sixteen to eighteen, asked Aya to the Yule Ball.

The first one was a fellow Hufflepuff. A sixth year that Aya didn’t know. It happened in the common room, as soon as Aya and her friends came from their dorm. She politely refused, saying she already had a dance partner.

“You do?” asked Hannah, confused.

“As far as we know, you don’t have a dance partner for the Yule Ball,” argued Susan.

“Exactly,” said Aya happily.

Hannah and Susan exchanged confused looks.

“If you don’t have a dance partner,” started Hannah, “then why did you just tell that guy that you do?”

“Because I won’t be attending the Ball,” explained Aya matter-of-factly.

Before Susan and Hannah could bombard her with questions, they were interrupted on the Dungeon corridor by a seventh year Slytherin. He was the second male student to ask her to the Ball and just like she did with the first one, she politely refused him with the same excuse.

As they sat down at their usual seats at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, another three male students approached Aya. One was a seventh year Ravenclaw, one a Durmstrang student and one a Beauxbatons student.

Aya wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Why were suddenly so many males interested in her?

She forced herself to smile as genuinely as possible and repeated the same excuse to these three students as well. When they left, Aya turned to her friends.

“Uh, Aya,” began Susan. “What is happening?”

“Since when are you so popular with the males?” whispered Hannah.

She shrugged. “That’s what I would like to know as well, my dear Hannah, Susan,” she whispered back.

Two other Durmstrang students approached them. Luckily, they weren’t there for Aya but Hannah and Susan. Dazed and flattered to be asked by two of Viktor’s friends, they accepted the invitation to the Ball.

Shortly after they started eating breakfast, Fred, George and Ginny joined them, with Fred and George draping their arms over Aya’s shoulders.

“What’s this we hear, Milady,” said Fred.

“You have broken three hearts in a blink of an eye?” teased George.

“Actually, I broke five male hearts this morning; two asked me to the Ball before we came to the Hall,” explained Aya, “I said no. What’s with the males today anyway?”

They gasped. “You don’t know?” they asked dramatically.

“What?”

“After what happened yesterday between you and those five girls, half of the males are absolutely terrified of you,” explained Fred gleefully.

“While the other half is completely taken with you,” concluded George.

“In a single day, you have topped every single male’s list of ‘Most Desirable Woman I want to Marry and have Strong Babies with’, Milady,” said Fred.

“And no doubt many a male had a wet dream about you last night,” added George.

“Or used you as masturbating material before bed and when they woke up this morning,” concluded Fred.

Aya looked absolutely terrified and disgusted. “That’s disgusting,” she grimaced. “I hope this is one of your jokes, because I don’t feel flattered or happy to know males from this school or Durmstrang and Beauxbatons might have masturbated to me.” She shuddered. “Just thinking about it makes me feel dirty and violated.”

“It’s not that bad,” commented Fred.

“Fred’s right, Aya,” added George. “It could have been a lot worse. Imagine having your own fan club.”

Horror shone in Aya’s eyes. “Please, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I think I should start actively using your birthday gifts if I want to have peace and quiet for the rest of the school year.”

“Oh, you mean Anti-Pervert Necklace and Soulmate Perfume?”

“Aha,” she nodded. “Maybe if they start avoiding me because of the smell, they will desist. I just hope no one in this school is my soulmate because I’m not interested in any of them.”

“Fred, George,” intervened Ginny, seated at their table putting food on a plate she snatched from the empty seat next to hers, “stop it already. Why don’t we wait to see the results of our little endeavour?”

As she said that, the four Gryffindor girls entered the Hall covering their heads with cloths, scarves and hats.

Ginny and the twins vanished the headpieces, yelling “Why hide your new haircuts … oh, wait, you don’t have any hair!”

The entire Hall burst into laughter and sniggers. Aya was gaping in amusement.

When McGonagall demanded to know what was going on, all three Weasleys happily assumed the guilt and joined Aya in her detention with Filch after breakfast.

…

Once in Filch’s office, Aya immediately sought out Mrs. Norris, who gladly rested on her lap, while Fred and George had an arm draped over Filch’s shoulders.

“Not you two again,” complained Filch tiredly.

“Oh, come on, Filch,” sighed the twins. “Don’t be like that.”

“You know we are-

“Your favourite-

“Detention students!”

“Fred, George,” called Aya warningly, while petting Mrs. Norris, “don’t mess with Filch. He already has a lot on his plate don’t make things even more difficult for him.”

They pouted.

“I mean it,” she said with a slight threat to her voice.

Fred and George let Filch be, and after receiving their instructions, all four of them proceeded to make Christmas decorations for the Yule Ball.

“So …” ventured Ginny after a while, “who’s the lucky person you’re going with to the Ball?” She was already taking Neville. In fact, she snatched him up as soon as the Ball was announced. She simply turned in her seat, faced him, and said if he wanted to go with her and Neville said yes.

“Actually, there isn’t one,” said Aya nonchalantly, “because I don’t plan to go to the Ball at all.”

“But you’re one of the champions,” said Ginny. “You are obliged to go.”

She turned to the twins. “I was hoping you could help me avoid that. Do you remember how last year you offered me your services?”

“Aha.” The twins nodded.

“Well, now I need those services,” said Aya. “Do you by any chance have something that can make me sick for at least 48 hours and nothing my father or Pomfrey do can make me feel better?”

Fred and George exchanged looks. “Well …” started Fred uncertainly.

“We do have a pill that fits what you’re asking,” continued George.

“But it’s still a prototype and … it’s quite rough,” concluded Fred.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, after you take the pill, you don’t start feeling anything until after four hours. Then you slowly start to feel worse and worse, until eight hours after taking the pill, you feel like absolute shit and then you feel like absolute shit for 72 hours straight. Then, after 72 hours of feeling like absolute shit, you slowly start to feel better and in about eight hours you feel okay again,” explained George in one breath all the while drawing a graph with his hands in the air. He took a deep breath. “So, overall, four days of feeling useless, give or take a few hours.”

“The good part is that it doesn’t have an antidote yet. So neither Snape nor Pomfrey will be able to tell what’s wrong with you, because you will be displaying all sorts of different symptoms of all kinds of diseases, without actually having any specific disease, thus no cure will be effective,” offered Fred.

“But do you _really_ want to suffer through _four_ _days_ of bed rest, _just_ to avoid going to the Yule Ball?” asked George with incredulity.

“And the Ball lasts for like … four _hours_ at most,” stated Fred.

“You can go with me,” offered George. “Fred is already taking Angelina, but I’m free. What do you say?”

She looked at him, conflicted between losing four days of her Winter Holiday (and quite possibly losing precious gaming time for AC and ROTTR) and suffering through four hours of the Ball. Besides … if she went with George, she won’t have to worry about going with someone she didn’t know.

It took her a minute to weigh all the pros and cons of the situation and since cons outweighed the pros, she let out a sigh and said, “Fine, I’ll go to the _stupid_ Ball with you, George.”

He grinned, taking one of her hands in his and kissing the back of it. “A wise decision, Milady.”

She huffed haughtily through her nose. “Then I better start looking for dresses and hairstyles that will make me look like a queen or a goddess, because if I have to suffer through the Ball, I refuse to look anything less than godly.” She flipped her braid to emphasise her words.

“Anyway,” she sighed, “why don’t you tell me how you managed to make those bitches bald?”

“Well, Fred and I developed a balding lotion,” said George.

“The baldness can be easily countered by a hair growth pomade, but it still does the trick,” added Fred.

“And I sneaked into the bathroom, emptied their shampoo bottles and placed balding lotion in them instead,” proclaimed Ginny with a wicked grin.

Aya laughed. “Have I ever told you how brilliant you are?” she asked them.

“You haven’t,” they said, “but we know we are.”

…

In the weeks before the Yule Ball, the rest of her friends acquired dancing partners as well. Fleur invited Luna to avoid rabid males, while a Beauxbatons male student invited Daphne. Astoria somehow managed to get Draco Malfoy to accept her invitation despite her being only a third year and Pansy Parkinson already having partial claim on him as her date for the Ball.

Aya was happy for Astoria, of course, but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand what Astoria saw in Draco. Sure, he wasn’t as obnoxious and annoying as he was in their first year, but he still had a long way towards being a decent enough person for Aya to want to talk to him. At least he wasn’t on the same level as Ronald Weasley. That was a big plus in his favour.

In between dancing lessons, schoolwork, and serving detention with Filch, a week before the actual event, Luna gave Aya a diadem she found in one of the versions of their secret room. It was silver with a giant sapphire in the middle and the design surrounding the stone looked like the Ravenclaw emblem.

“Luna,” she began cautiously, admiring the diadem. “Is this what I think it is?”

“If you’re referring to this being the supposedly lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, then yes, this is Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem.”

Aya looked lost at the diadem. She traced it with her fingers.

“Why are you giving me this?”

Their eyes met.

“Because it belongs to you,” said Luna dreamily. Aya was confused. “Or at least the piece of soul trapped in it belongs to you,” elaborated Luna with a knowing smile.

Realisation dawned on her. A horcrux. Voldemort’s horcrux. Another piece of Voldemort’s soul trapped and alone for Lord knew how many years.

She looked at the diadem again and caressed it with care.

‘Wait a minute,’ she frowned … What did Luna mean by ‘the piece of soul trapped in it belongs to you’? Was she referring to the other horcruxes and her as well? She did keep Tom, Marvolo, and Gaunt safe and in turn, they kept her safe. She also had a part of Voldemort inside of her. Did that mean it belonged to her in part as well?

She was confused.

“You should wear it to the Ball,” Luna told her, smiling. “After all, Queens and Empresses wear crowns and it will go well with the dress you have in mind for the Ball.”

With that, she left, humming and skipping, almost floating on air like some ethereal being beyond human comprehension.

Aya let out a shaky and breathy laugh, pressing the diadem to her lips. “I can’t wait to meet you,” she whispered, smiling. Then, as she was returning to her dorm, she realised something.

“Shit,” she cursed, “I don’t know what to call you. We’ve already exhausted decent names. I suppose there’s Riddle left, but I don’t think you would like to be called after the surname of your biological father,” she was saying to the diadem.

“Curse you Voldemort for creating too many horcruxes and not having enough useful names to name them properly.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“We’ll think of something, won’t we?” Marvolo and Gaunt were beside her, nodding.

…

The piece of Voldemort’s soul in the diadem looked shabby, extremely pale and his features looked burned and blurred. When Tom pulled them inside his journal, he was sleeping, dark circles around his eyes, cheeks completely sunken, his nose distorted. He was so thin; it looked like he would turn to dust at the slightest gust of wind or touch.

Something tugged at Aya’s heart when she saw his state. She knelt beside him and lightly caressed his face. She had to blink away the tears that collected in her eyes. She strongly hoped she was the last horcrux Voldemort made, because it hurt her to see what Voldemort had done to himself to achieve absolute immortality.

When he finally opened his eyes, they were wild, crazed, haunted, tormented, and bloodshot. He was looking frantically at them and his surroundings like a lost animal, until his eyes settled on her.

“Who are you?” he snarled. “Where am I?”

“I’m Aya,” she told him gently, “and you’re in Tom’s journal, your journal from when you were a teen.”

He looked closely at the other three versions of himself. “Why are they all here? Why am I here?”

“We just kind of fell into Aya’s hands,” said Tom.

“Except for Gaunt,” interjected Marvolo, “she went to get him from the shack with my help.”

“As for your second question … Well,” said Gaunt, “we keep each other company … and Aya wanted to meet you and keep you company as well.”

The diadem looked baffled. “Keep company? Why would you want to keep me company? Do you know what I am?”

“Because I want to,” said Aya simply, “and because I don’t want you to feel lonely. And yes, I know what you are, because I am one too.”

His eyes glinted red. “You are?” he whispered in a hoarse voice. ”You are like me? A horcrux?”

She nodded, smiling softly. He looked awed and amazed like a child. He moved closer, touching her with his thin, skeletal fingers.

“You don’t look like me though,” he commented, confused.

She laughed. “There’s a much older version of you inside me, but to meet him, Tom would have to transfer us to my mental landscape,” she told him.

“Yeah,” agreed Marvolo. “Besides, you would benefit from Aya’s landscape, because you look like shit.”

Aya, Tom and Gaunt looked at him with a blank stare.

“What?” he said defensively. “It’s true. Just look at him.”

“Don’t mind him,” said Aya, offering her shoulders as support for the diadem. “After the horcrux inside me and I are done with you, you’ll feel and look like new,” said Aya to a confused horcrux.

…

“Here, have yourself a cinnamon-roll snail,” offered pseudo-Voldemort to his younger self, after he and Aya have put him through a complete spa treatment, until his skin was so soft and smooth that it was literally sparkling and his distorted and burned features were not as distorted as before.

The diadem looked warily at the snail.

“Or you could have a lollipop,” he plucked one, “or a candy cane,” he plucked one, “or you could have a cotton candy sheep; they are extremely fluffy, or if you prefer chocolate, you could have one of the three different types of chocolate bunnies. There’s a dark chocolate one with chocolate mousse inside, a milk chocolate one with caramel for brain, and a white chocolate one with raspberry sauce for brain,” he was explaining to a very confused diadem. “Then there are also ice cream trees but they require climbing to get to the ice-cream, but we could also eat the cone and fell the tree like that.”

“I think I’ll have a dark chocolate bunny,” said the diadem carefully. Aya immediately went to catch one and bring it to him.

“Thank you,” he murmured as he took the squirming rabbit and bit into its head, smooth and airy chocolate mousse invaded his mouth.

Tom, Marvolo, and Gaunt suggested showing the diadem the set of memories where Aya dealt with the five bitches (they have officially named that set of memories into ‘Aya vs. the Five Bitches Trilogy’)

After watching the memories, Aya conjured up some lively Latino music mainly to cheer the diadem up, but ended up dancing with the rest of Voldemort’s soul pieces as well.

After that, they played some monopoly with pseudo-Voldemort as the banker.

“You know what I was wondering?” said Tom all of a sudden to pseudo-Voldemort. “You’re always surrounded by sweets … don’t you get … tired of them? Or seeing this same landscape all the time? I mean it’s definitely nicer than the sepia representation of Hogwarts, but Hogwarts is big …”

Pseudo-Voldemort just smiled. “I don’t,” he said simply. “What you see isn’t everything actually. It would make Aya too simple of a person if she only had one layer, so there are many things that you can find underground and harder to reach parts. For all the times that you’ve all been here, we haven’t gone hiking to the Cupcake Mountains and Muffin Hills, we haven’t visited the Gingerbread cookie caves. There are different popcorn mines and rock candy mines. There are different flavoured juice geysers, the Fresh Fruit Rainforest, the Icy Goods Village with frozen water and different flavoured sorbet Yetis,” he enumerated.

“Those are mostly sugary things, but then there’s also the Pizza Land and Salt Lake City. In the former, there are different kinds of pizzas and in the latter there’s sea water and in it there are fish crackers and crab and shrimp chips, dried and crispy sea algae, flip worms, and grissini cottages with pretzel windows. Near the salty area, there’s the Nutty Desert, where there’s nothing but different kinds of nuts: almonds, peanuts, hazelnuts, walnuts, pistachio, cashew, you name it. Then there’s also the Sour Oasis with sour gummy snakes and worms and the Citrus Forest. There’s a small patch of bitterness adjacent to it because of different vegetables, such as dandelion, radicchio, Brussels sprouts and arugula. The last region is called the Spice Land. That region is extremely hot and is mostly comprised of instant stir-fry noodles with different levels of spiciness. It can be on the mild side or so spicy you almost black out and stop breathing, but you can also find different curries and other spicy sauces. Usually there is plenty of steamed japonica rice nearby to alleviate the pain and the Plain Milk River. I’m still waiting for Sushi Land to appear with different types of sushi because right now they are only a few here and there.”

By the time he finished describing different regions of Aya’s mental landscape, everyone was intrigued and curious to explore all those regions.

“However, if Aya gets depressed or angry, the weather changes drastically. There’s either lightning or acid or black ink rain and then no matter where you are everything tastes rotten and just bad in general,” he grimaced.

“For example, when she was furious during that episode where she was beating the other women? There were thunderbolts and bolts of lightning everywhere. Some time back, she was clearly depressed about something, because there was black ink just pouring and dripping from the sky. Luckily, as soon as she feels better, the ink disappears quickly and everything returns to normal.”

Just before sunrise, Aya remembered she still hadn’t given the diadem a name.

“Anything but Tom or Riddle, I hate those names,” complained the diadem.

“Well … what about Richard?” suggested Aya.

The horcruxes looked confused.

“It was the name of at least three English kings. You want to sound important, so why not a king’s name?”

“Even if a king had such a name it was a muggle king, I don’t want to sound muggle.”

“Well, I can’t call you Rowena, can I?” huffed Aya, exasperated.

Why was Voldemort no matter the version so fucking obsessed with sounding uncommon? What was wrong with common names? They were simple and nice. As long as you didn’t name your child after a bus stop or a city or country or continent or any other crazy shit just to be ‘original’ and ‘unique’, she supposed having a normal name was perfectly okay.

“What about Ramses, a popular name for Egyptian pharaohs.”

He looked like he liked that suggestion better. “If I remember correctly, the meaning behind Ramses is ‘Son of Ra’ and Ra is a well-known deity of the sun,” elaborated Aya. Diadem’s bloodshot eyes lit up with excitement. “Because to the Egyptians the sun represented light, warmth, and growth, as the Sun God, Ra was seen as the ruler of all that he created.”

“I like it,” he said.

Aya smiled. “Then Ramses it is.”

“What about me?” called out pseudo-Voldemort. “You haven’t given me a name yet.”

She thought for a while and said, “I’ll call you Moriarty, after the arch-nemesis of Sherlock Holmes.”

…

On December 21st, Aya and her female friends have decided to go shopping for their Yule Ball dresses together.

Using the floo powder in Severus’ office, they flooed to 12 Grimmauld Place and from there they first went to Diagon Alley, where Daphne, Astoria and Luna bought their dresses. Aya found a few that resembled the one she was looking for, but wanted to check a few muggle clothes shops before deciding for a dress. Hermione, Ginny, Susan and Hannah wanted to see the muggle offer as well.

Since they weren’t bathing in money, they were limited by a budget so they would have to find something glamourous but affordable.

After at least a three-hour search, Aya and the rest of the girls who still hadn’t picked their dresses, had found what they were looking for.

Before they returned to Grimmauld Place, they bought shoes and some cheap muggle make-up. Most of the girls were going for natural looking make-up and earthy tones. In regards to shoes, all the girls decided to wear flats, only Daphne and Aya insisted on potentially killing themselves by wearing high heels.

With dresses, shoes and make-up secured, they returned to Grimmauld Place, where they spent the rest of the day browsing the internet for different hairstyles. Again, most weren’t looking for something complicated, only Aya insisted on having some weird hairstyle, albeit extremely elegant and beautiful, but it didn’t look simple.

Luckily, Hannah and Daphne were both extremely skilled with hairstyling so together they will be able to figure how to go about it and do everyone’s hair.

…

While Aya waited for the Yule Ball day to arrive, she spent the remaining days flooing between Hogwarts and her house to play videogames since, after the Yule Ball, she won’t have the chance to do it again until Easter. Apparently, Severus and Sirius had something planned for the three of them and she decided to celebrate New Year with her friends in their secret room.

On December 25th, after exchanging greetings and small gifts, the girls decided to spend the entire day preparing themselves.

First, they all took a long, relaxing bath in one of the Prefects’ bathrooms after breakfast. After that, they moisturised their skin, so that it would be nice and soft, and prepared their faces for make-up and hair for styling. Then, they ate lunch and spent the entire afternoon getting ready.

They started by doing their nails. Aya combined three different nail polishes. Her primary colour was gold. For her ring fingers, she switched to black and topped the black nail polish with a clear one that had medium-sized gold glitter and smaller holographic glitter flakes. Hermione went for a classic French manicure, Susan, Hannah and Astoria went for a rosy nude, Ginny wore white nail polish, Daphne metallic emerald-green with silver ring fingernails, and Luna decided to paint her nails in rainbow colours, meaning that each fingernail was painted differently. At least she kept both hands symmetrical.

When their nails were done, they did their make-up following different make-up tutorials found on YouTube from different beauty gurus. Aya went for a gold glitter smoky eye and a blood red matt lip, rosy blush and blinding gold highlighter. Daphne went for a brown smoky eye with a red lip as well, but her red was lighter than Aya’s. Hermione went for a nude eye shadow and a rosy nude lip gloss. Hannah, Susan, Astoria and Ginny went for a similar style as well, since none of them felt comfortable with make-up. Luna again went for a rainbow theme, but instead of only keeping the eye shadows on her eyelids, she managed to transform it into a carnival mask that covered half of her forehead and reached half her cheeks. For her lip, she chose a clear lip gloss with holographic glitter in it.

Following make-up, Daphne and Hannah began styling everyone’s hair, using reference pictures to recreate the hairstyles successfully.

Hannah did Hermione’s hair first and Daphne did her sister’s hair first. For Astoria, Daphne did something simple and innocent looking, a Dutch Flower Braid with a flower clip in the centre. For Hermione, Hannah first used some hair-straightening potion invented by a Potter, which was a nice little trivia for Aya to know, then used a curling iron to curl the hair back without the hair getting frizzy or out of control. After that, she did a frontal fishtail braid and made it look like a headband, the rest of the hair was loose.

Next, they moved to Susan and Ginny. For Ginny, Daphne did a waterfall braid and added a few small flower clips in the knots to make it vibrant. For Susan, Hannah did a French hairband braid before putting the hair in a straight ponytail.

Before Hannah and Daphne did each other’s hair, the former did Luna’s hair and the latter did Aya’s hair. For Luna, Hannah first took two locks of hair from her sides and joined them at the back. Then, she sectioned her hair into three equal parts, braided each section until she braided each braid together in a messy and fluffy looking giant braid, which allowed her to decorate Luna’s hair with lots of colourful flower and butterfly clips.

For Aya, Daphne first curled her hair with a curling iron. She proceeded to take each individual curl, twist it, fluff it and then start pinning them to the back of her head so that by the time the last curl was pinned it looked like a giant, messy and curly low bun, with a few loose frontal curly bangs to frame her face. As a cherry on top, Daphne placed the diadem Luna gave her on her head.

To close the hairstyling off, Hannah fluffed the back of Daphne’s head towards the crown to make her hair more voluminous. Then, she pinned part of her middle hair in a sort of criss-cross, rolled the hair that fell down her shoulders and upper back, until she had an extremely low bun, and secured the roll with plenty of bobby pins. With the main bun in place, she proceeded to fluff it, then took a few side strands of the hair, tucked them inside the roll and let a few frontal strands loose.

Finally, for Hannah, Daphne sectioned the hair into two large sections. Because Hannah wanted two upside down braided wraparound buns, Hannah had to bend forward so Daphne could start braiding at the nape. Once that was done, she simply wrapped the braids into two buns, making it look like two flowers on top of Hannah’s head.

It was 19:20 when they finished with the hairdos. Before they put on their dresses and shoes, they decided it was a good time for one final trip to the toilet.

In terms of dresses and footwear, Hermione wore pink ballerina flats with decorative satin strings that she criss-crossed to just below her knees and a sleeveless, light pink dress with a tight-fitting upper part decorated with a flowery lace pattern, wide skin-coloured straps, and a fanned out skirt that reached just above her knees.

Susan wore plain white ballerina flats and a rather formal looking silvery blue dress with a lace bodice with snowflakes of different sizes peppered all over the dress. The dress had short sleeves that were off the shoulders and her skirt was floaty with the front being slightly shorter than the back.

Hannah wore white ballerina flats with giant flowers at the front, which paired well with her off the shoulder, midnight blue dress with giant golden flowers pressed into the fabric. Her upper part of the dress fit her tightly and her skirt fanned out a bit, reaching the knees.

Ginny went for black ballerina flats and a simple short black dress with a lace layer all over it. She had wide lace straps and the lace covered her entire chest area, up to the neck. As with the rest of the girls, her bodice was tight fitting and the skirt fanned out a bit.

Luna and Astoria had the most fairy tale like dresses, with Luna looking like a rainbow unicorn with a strapless white bodice covered in sparkles, floaty and almost translucent skirt with rainbow-coloured layers, and Astoria looking like a bubble fairy with a strapless white bodice sparingly decorated with silver gemstones and pieces of see-through material in white, baby blue and navy blue attached to her white skirt, making it look almost like a tutu. They both wore flats decorated with glitter.

Daphne went for round, closed toe, black high-heel stiletto sandals and a strapless, tight-fitting, plain, emerald-green dress, with a long and slim skirt and a slit on her left side reaching up to mid-thigh.

Aya went full glam. With golden nails, golden smoky eye, she also went for round, closed toe, golden high-heel stiletto sandals covered in gold holographic glitter and a high-neck (to hide the locket and ring), tight-fitting, sparkly, golden sequin dress with a mermaid style skirt that pooled a bit on the ground. Since there were no slits, she tied the diary securely to her right inner thigh. As the cherry on top, she put a small pouch, where she kept her phone, on her wrist and made it look like a bracelet with a giant pendant.

…

With fifteen minutes until the official start, all the girls expect for Luna, Hermione and Aya hurried to the Great Hall, where they gathered with their dancing partners.

As soon as George, Severus and Sirius saw Aya, their jaws almost hit the floor.

“Damn, pup,” said Sirius after recovering, “you look blinding and stunning,” he praised. “For whom did you dress up like this?” He eyed George warily. She chuckled and joined her parents and George.

“Myself, Papa Siri,” she said simply, posing and gesturing at herself in a flourish of her arm. “I am a goddess, I feel like a goddess, I think it is only fair that I look like one as well, wouldn’t you agree?” she said with a smug grin, flashing her pearl white teeth.

Sirius turned to George and whispered, “You’re only allowed to look,” in a menacing tone, wagging his forefinger in front of his face.

George was confused. “If I only look, how are we going to dance?”

Sirius grimaced. “Fine, you can only touch her when dancing, and don’t you dare touch her anywhere below or above her shoulder blades, and her hands,” allowed Sirius begrudgingly. “I will be watching you and all the males at this Ball like a hawk and will hex anyone who so much as attempts trying to get their hands on my daughter. Is that clear?”

“Of course,” assured George, smiling. “But there are a few moves in the Quadrille that require me to place a hand on Aya’s waist.”

“You’re also allowed to touch her there if it’s part of the dance routine,” allowed Sirius, “but outside of that, I don’t want to see your or anyone’s hand on Aya’s waist.”

“If it makes you feel better,” said George, “I will also make sure that no male with nefarious intentions gets close to her,” offered George with a little bow. Sirius blinked in confusion, but accepted George’s offer to protect Aya’s honour from perverted male hands.

“Don’t worry, Aya,” said Tom, “we will be your eyes on the back of your head and warn you if anyone tries to approach you from behind.”

“Exactly,” exclaimed Gaunt. “After all, we are your knights in … uh … in … uh …”

“Shining armour?” offered Ramses.

“I know that’s how the expression goes.” Gaunt waved his hand dismissively. “But I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we aren’t exactly shining and we’re definitely not wearing any armour. So we can’t use that.”

Tom looked at him with a deadpan stare. “And you do realise that it is meant in a metaphorical sense rather than literal knights in an armour that shines because of the reflected light?”

Gaunt glared at the youngest. “I am aware of that as well,” he said.

“What about mismatched robes?” offered Marvolo.

Gaunt gasped and his eyes sparkled. “Yes, that’s it!” he exclaimed excitedly. “We are Aya’s Horcrux Knights in Mismatched Robes.”

Aya wanted to laugh so hard at their antics, but since no one could see or hear them but her, she had to act as if everything was completely normal.

Then, George turned to Aya and offered her his elbow. “If you would, Milady.”

She hooked her hand under his arm and waited for the grand door to open after Dumbledore’s opening speech. When they opened and they entered, cheers and claps greeted them.

They walked to the centre of the Hall, each couple stationing itself at an equal distance from the rest until each pair represented a corner of a square. Dancing partners faced each other in a position for the English Waltz and waited for the music to start.

As soon as the music started playing, all four pairs began moving simultaneously.

“I see you’re wearing Pervert Protection Necklace,” whispered George as they did a turn. “And the Perfume as well.”

“Of course I am,” she whispered back. “Didn’t I say I would? Just to be on the safe side. Does my smell bother you?”

“Well, not exactly,” he said thoughtfully. “I mean, you don’t stink, but I don’t feel actual desire to do anything perverted to you despite you looking like a goddess. It’s almost as if you didn’t have a smell at all.”

“Then that means the perfume is working?”

“Of course it works,” said George, slightly insulted. “Fred and I made it; of course it would work without a hitch.”

As the sound of the waltz slowly faded into silence, the four pairs faced each other; two pairs on one side and the other two opposite. It was time for the Quadrille dance. On one side, there were Aya and George and Fleur and Luna, and on the other Hermione and Viktor and Cedric with Cho.

The sound of Strauss’ _Fledermaus-Quadrille_ sounded and the four pairs danced.

At the end, everyone clapped and now the rest of the couples could join the dance floor as well, where they danced beginner dance routines of Cha Cha, Foxtrot and Salsa.

After dancing for half an hour straight Aya needed a break, so she went to the refreshments table with George. After eating a few biscuits and drinking some water, she grabbed his arm by the wrist and dragged him towards the staff.

“Come, George, let’s go find my parents. I want to take a few pictures of them and with them.”

She approached her fathers, asked to take a picture of just the two of them first, and then she instructed George to take pictures of her with her parents with her smartphone. After getting her pictures, she took the phone back and asked Sirius to take a few pictures of her with George.

She danced with her fathers next, first with Severus and then with Sirius, with George filming the entire thing. Then, they left Severus and Sirius to themselves and looked for the rest of their friends.

When they found them, they took more pictures, mostly group ones, but each pair also got to pose for a photo for commemoration purposes. When it came to Hermione and Viktor, Aya changed from her phone to Hermione’s phone and managed to film a few videos of them dancing together.

…

With the formal dancing part of the Yule Ball over, it was time for more substantial food, followed by casual and lively music.

After eating some stew and goulash, The Weird Sisters were scheduled to play, but the twins hijacked their performance and replaced it with their ultimate mega mix playlist that Aya and her friends compiled with their favourite songs (most of them were muggle anyway). The playlist featured different music genres as well as languages.

While their songs were playing, Aya danced and sang with all of her friends, sometimes in pairs sometimes in a group. All the while, Tom, Marvolo, Gaunt, and Ramses swayed and danced with each other following the upbeat rhythm, while also paying attention to the people around them.

By the time their mixtape ended; Aya was so damn tired from dancing and singing that she didn’t know if she had it in her for the final Quadrille with all the pairs dancing in several long rows at the close of the Ball at quarter to midnight.

…

While Aya danced with her friends and enjoyed the music, Severus went to do his rounds outside as a professor to keep the more horny students under control.

“You’ll keep an eye on her, right?” he whispered to Sirius.

“Like a hawk,” he returned, taking a sip of juice.

As Sirius observed Severus make his way through the crowd towards the Entrance Hall, he noticed the headmaster of Durmstrang follow him not long after.

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like Karkaroff following Severus. Was he trying to do something to him?

Slamming down his half-finished glass, he made his way through the crowd towards the exit. When he reached the courtyard, he disillusioned himself and followed them.

Karkaroff was trying to establish a conversation with Severus, but he simply continued walking and checking the bushes for horny teenagers.

“You must have noticed the dark mark getting darker, Severus,” said Karkaroff urgently. “You know what that means, right?”

“I know,” drawled Severus, “but what do you want me to do about it?”

“Will you return to the Dark Lord’s side, once he finally calls for us?”

Severus paused and Sirius held his breath.

“If he calls, I’ll go and see what he has to say after almost fourteen years of absence,” concluded Severus.

“You’re not afraid he might torture or kill you for not searching for him, for not staying loyal to him?”

“With my skills in Potions, I think I’m relatively safe from the Dark Lord’s displeasure,” said Severus. “Now if you would please let me do my work and leave.”

Karkaroff turned towards the castle again. Sirius revealed himself, as he positioned himself behind Severus. “How is the hunt for horny teenagers going?” he whispered in his ear, making the other jump in surprise and turn towards him.

“Idiot,” he swatted his arm, “what are you doing here? I thought you would watch Aya like a hawk the entire night.”

“George said he would protect her,” said Sirius, “she also has her other friends, and let’s not forget she would punch and kick anyone who would even so much as graze her in a place she didn’t want to be touched, and she would punch them where it hurts the most.”

“True,” agreed Severus.

Sirius’ expression turned serious. “I saw Karkaroff follow you and I thought …” he trailed off, averting his eyes and blushing a bit. “I thought he might want to … you know … have his way with you,” elaborated Sirius eloquently (that was sarcasm).

Severus arched an eyebrow. “You thought Karkaroff wanted to fuck me?” he prompted. Sirius blushed even more fiercely. He nodded.

Severus chuckled. “Oh, please, Sirius, I thought we established that my looks aren’t exactly inviting and pleasant to look at,” he said self-deprecatingly. “Besides, I thought we were exclusive to each other ever since that first time we had sex in my private chambers.”

“Of course, we’re exclusive,” sputtered Sirius, “That’s not up for discussion, because I don’t share Severus. I’m a selfish bastard after all, right?”

He leaned into him and pecked him on the lips, while his arms snaked around Severus’ waist and pulled him close.

“And I thought I established that I find you attractive, hooked nose, crooked teeth, sallow cheeks, pale skin, greasy hair, sarcasm, caustic wit and all that shit, as Aya would say.”

“I don’t share either,” breathed Severus, pulling Sirius closer by the hair and deepening the kiss.

When they separated for air, both were excited to continue. “I want you, Severus, _now_ ,” he growled, assaulting the other’s mouth, grabbing at his ass, back, and thighs.

“We’ve already had three extensive sex sessions today, Sirius,” Severus managed to get out, his eyelids closing in pleasure as Sirius transferred his mouth to his jaw, neck and ear, and was leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and sensual licks.

“We could sneak off for a fourth one,” suggested Sirius in his seductive voice. “It’s not like anyone will notice.”

“Aya would,” countered Severus.

“She’s enjoying the Ball with her friends,” insisted Sirius.

“You’re incorrigible,” complained Severus, but they both knew he loved the sex just as much.

“Only when it comes to ravaging you, or rather _you_ ravaging _me_ ,” smiled Sirius mischievously.

Severus sighed, but cupped the other’s face and pulled him in for a searing kiss. “After the Ball,” he whispered out of breath and with his forehead pressed to Sirius’. “As soon as the Ball ends, we’re going to my room to have sex.”

Sirius let out a whine. “That’s still an hour to go,” he complained. “I’m hard now. What do I do to get the erection down? It’s not like I can just go take a cold shower.”

Severus disillusioned both of them, grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him to the broomstick cupboard in the Entrance Hall. Then, he warded it with locking and silencing spells.

As the disillusionment charm disappeared, he kneeled in front of Sirius, unzipped his pants and began licking, pumping and sucking Sirius’ cock.

Mouth agape, Sirius closed his eyes as his lover’s mouth swallowed him whole, making him moan and shiver. His legs trembled and to keep himself from losing his balance, he pressed himself against the wall, grabbing at the walls around him, letting Severus take him to heaven and back.

As he recovered from his high, he saw the tent between Severus’ thighs and, returning the favour, he relieved his lover with his mouth as well.

…

On December 27th, Severus and Sirius arranged a three-day-two-night trip to a small cottage at a resort in the mountains.

None of them could ski, so they rented plastic disc snow saucers instead and went downhill a few times. They ate at the resort a few times, but Aya insisted on preparing a few meals herself as well, while also secretly baking Voldemort’s gift.

“If there’s a kitchen in this cottage, then we should put it to use at least once,” she reasoned.

At night, once they thought Aya was already asleep, they locked the door with the provided key and put up silencing charms, and spent most of their two-night stay making love. On their last day, however, they forgot to lock the door, so when she went to call them for breakfast, she stumbled upon them naked under the covers, sleeping snuggled to one another.

Not that she was particularly shocked or bothered. In fact, she was more than happy to know they finally stopped dancing around one another, especially Sirius, who was so painfully obvious she wondered how on Earth Severus didn’t see it sooner.

“We were planning on telling you,” said Sirius apologetically.

“When? A day before the wedding?”

They looked guilty.

“Papa Siri, Papa Sev, relax,” she smiled, “I’m not upset or angry. As long as you are happy with one another, I’m happy for you as well.”

She left them to get ready for breakfast and in the meantime, she took the opportunity to write a letter to Voldemort.

_My Darling King/Emperor Voldemort,_

_First, a belated Merry Christmas or Happy Yule, whichever you prefer._

_I know you’re probably busy with whatever plan you’re working on for us to meet, so I don’t expect you to answer this letter. However, you did express the desire to see a picture of one of my scary Hallowe’en costumes, so I thought I would keep that promise and send you a belated photo of my latest costume._

_(With all the shit that went down with my tournament participation, I kind of forgot to send the picture on the actual Hallowe’en … sorry about that. But you know what they say, better late than never. So, here it is.)_

_(Selfie of Aya as Hysteria Alice Liddell)_

_I am cosplaying a character from one of the Psychological Horror Muggle videogames Alice Liddell in her Hysteria mode. I asked my father Severus to spell my eyes blood red, because I can’t stand the idea of putting anything in my eyes, contacts or eye drops._

_And that’s fake blood and some red body paint that you see on my face, hands and dress. Just so you know._

_I also want to leave you a photo of my parents and me at the Yule Ball._

_(Photo of Aya, Severus and Sirius at the Yule Ball)_

_I planned to skip it. You know make myself ill with one of the Weasley twins’ products for their prank shop, but in the end I decided to go, since it was only four hours long. Although it took almost the same amount of time to get ready, if not more._

_I decided I wanted to look like a goddess or royalty, and which colour screams royalty and godliness more than gold. Therefore, I wore a lot of gold items and glitter. Ramses was a nice touch as well._

_Oh, right, you probably recognise the diadem on my head. I know it’s one of your horcruxes. My friend Luna came up to me one day and gave him to me. She said it belonged to me and that I should wear it to the Ball (so I did). I don’t know what exactly she meant by that, but I am happy to report that Ramses (the diadem horcrux) is okay, although when we first met him, he was in such a poor state I thought he would crumble to dust if I touched him._

_Moriarty (that’s the horcrux inside of me) and I helped him recover with lots of sweets, therapeutic chocolate and milkshake baths, massages and buttercream facial masks, and I danced with him to some lively Latino music to cheer him up._

_We also regularly play cards or board games with the other horcruxes as well. He has the best luck in monopoly; he always lands on the valuable shit and buys it immediately, avoids paying taxes and starts building houses and hotels as soon as possible. I don’t know how many times Tom, Marvolo, Gaunt and I ended up broke because of him. Moriarty avoids it by playing the banker all the time._

_Anyway, I have found out from the horcruxes about your birthday some time ago, so I will probably send you something on the thirty-first. I know, you don’t like celebrating it, but let me indulge you a bit. I can’t really gift anything physical to your horcruxes, but we’ve been spending the night celebrating since my third year with Tom and then last year with all four (Tom, Marvolo, Gaunt, and Moriarty) and this year Ramses will be joining the celebrations as well. Since I can’t see you in person, I want to gift you something I made myself._

_I don’t want you to feel alone or forgotten. I mean, I know everybody fears you and knows who you are, but some of them think you’re dead and even if they suspect you’re alive, because of your inactivity they don’t necessarily have you in the forefront of their minds. So, I suppose they have kind of forgotten about you._

_Until we meet in person, I send you many warm hugs and Eskimo kisses._

_Your Goddess Aya_

…

On December 31st, a snowy owl landed on the windowsill of the Riddle Manor office and knocked on the glass with her beak to draw the attention of the two people inside.

“There’s Miss Potter’s owl outside the window, my Lord,” said Barty Crouch Jr. when he looked up.

“Bring her inside,” ordered Voldemort in a raspy voice from his seat.

Barty did as told. The owl landed on the desk with quite a big package tied to her leg.

She waited for Barty to relieve her of the burden her mistress had saddled her with, and since she wasn’t expecting a reply, she flew away as soon as Barty gave her a handful of owl treats. A bit of water would have been nice as well, but that would be something her mistress will take care of when she returns to her. Or she might take a detour and go to a pond to have a nice sip of water.

“Open it,” said Voldemort impatiently from the bundle of blankets.

Barty obliged. There was a metal box, wrapped in a hand-knitted green and black scarf and to it, a letter with ‘READ FIRST!’ written in bold and capital letters and a handmade card with a slightly reimagined Dark Mark were attached.

The entire skull was visible. It had a few missing teeth, two holes in the cranium and opened mouth. The snake had its tail, which was split in eight smaller ones, sticking out from one hole in the cranium, then went out through the other. It disappeared through one of the eye sockets again and finally came out through the mouth until the head split into eight heads. There was a bright green aura surrounding the pitch-black outline of the mark on white paper.

Before reading the card, Barty opened the letter first. He cleared his throat and began reading Aya’s letter to his master.

_My Dear Voldemort,_

_As promised, I have sent you a New Year and Birthday present in one._

_I hope this letter finds you in good health, because even Dark Lords need to be in good health if they want to do their Dark Lord business, whether it is to torture incompetent and disobedient followers or terrorise the general populace of the wizarding world. You can’t do that effectively if you have a cold or pneumonia._

_Anyway, back to the present. As you have no doubt noticed, I took some artistic liberty with your Dark Mark. I took a picture of the one on my father Severus’ arm and used it as reference and I hope you like it. A small observation though, I really like how macabre the mark looks, but I think it would look even nicer if you made it look slightly more demonic/satanic just to make it even more impressive than it already is. Inside the card, you will find enclosed my greeting so I won’t do that here._

_Moving onto the box. I tried my hand at knitting. I followed a tutorial on YouTube. Scarves are the easiest way to begin and this is the result. Maybe when I get more skilled with different patterns, I will make you a hat, gloves, socks and a jumper as well, but I need you to model for me, because I can’t imagine how big I should make them. Anyway, I chose green because of Slytherin and black because you’re dark … and because I just liked the combination. I hope you will use it to cover your nose and mouth so that the wind doesn’t get you. It might not be Antarctica cold outside, but damn it’s still freezing ass cold whenever the wind starts blowing. (I swear I sound like a grandmother wagging her finger at her grandchild, telling him to make sure to wear at least twenty layers of clothing so that he’s not cold. I blame it on Moriarty.) In any case, the wool is soft and fluffy. I was adamant on using the softest they had, not the one that is so coarse that looks like it could be used for carpets._

_Inside the box, you will find several goods that I baked myself and a Green tea blend with mint. There are some brownies, different kinds of biscuits and some homemade chocolate. I tried to make it not too sweet, because I don’t know how much is too much sweetness for you. I also hope you’re not allergic to anything I baked, because then I would feel extremely bad. I know just how bad of a reaction one can have to something they’re allergic. As you already know, a magical plant from one of the school greenhouses almost killed me during my first Herbology lesson._

_Together with the biscuits and chocolate, I put a mini homemade snow globe with a basilisk as the central figure piece. I’m specifying that here, because I don’t know how well you can tell from its small size and all the glitter I added to the liquid, but it’s supposed to be a basilisk. Like the one in Salazar’s Chamber. I think it’s going to die of old age soon. I mean, if it has been in the school since Salazar’s time, then it’s getting close to a millennium in age. It’s ancient. I fear I will go down one day and find its corpse. Anyway, snow globes are supposed to have a calming effect because of the slowly falling glitter. I thought you might find it useful, because being a Dark Lord can get stressful pretty quickly, especially if things don’t go as planned._

_I hope you enjoy the gift._

_Hugs and kisses,_

_Your Aya_

“Open the card,” said Voldemort as Barty finished reading the letter. “And give me the scarf.” Barty wrapped the scarf around his master’s form.

Then, he opened the card and read:

_Happy Birthday and a Happy New Year!_

_Dear Lord Voldemort, I hope that in this upcoming year you will achieve at least one of your masterplans, that you will stay healthy and that our relationship might continue blossoming._

_Aya_

Knocking interrupted them. Voldemort grunted. “Enter.”

Lucius Malfoy entered the office together with his son Draco. They both kneeled and bowed. “My Lord, I have brought my son like you instructed.”

“Do you have what I asked of you, Draco?” beckoned Voldemort.

“Y-Yes, my Lord,” he stammered and, from the inside pocket of his robes, he pulled out several vials with memories in them. Each memory carefully labelled.

He handed them to Voldemort, who awkwardly inspected them with his hands. Satisfied, he motioned to Barty. “Take them and put them with the others. I’ll view them later in privacy.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” he bowed and then opened a cupboard, which was full of memory vials, all containing Aya’s name.

“You can go now,” he dismissed the Malfoy pair. Alone, he spoke to Barty again. “Get some water for tea and move the box with the baked goods closer to me.”

As the green tea with mint was getting ready, Voldemort slowly nibbled on Aya’s home baked goods.

The brownies were chewy, the biscuits crumbly and the chocolate simply melted on his tongue. He didn’t remember when the last time he ate something this delicious was. Maybe Hogwarts … no, not even the house-elves at Hogwarts or Barty’s elf could bake like this.

He wouldn’t mind if she baked more and didn’t limit herself to special occasions. He also wouldn’t mind trying some of her savoury dishes. Maybe she would be willing to bring a homemade lunch with her whenever she would visit him in the future.

As Barty sat down the cup with the straw, he turned to his master. “Do you need anything else, my Lord?”

“That will be enough for now, Barty.”

“Do you want to write her back?”

“Not yet,” said Voldemort, though he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t itching to answer her letters. He missed talking with her … especially about morbid topics. However, he also knew that if he started a correspondence again, he might not be able to stop himself from writing to her all the time … well, more like dictating his lines to Barty to write. “Not until it’s time.”

It was already hard for him counting down the months, the weeks, the days, the hours until the third task, when she would help him get his body back. He really didn’t need to add to his eagerness to see her and talk to her in person.

Oh, he knew how she evolved through the years from his spies’ memories, which they were required to provide as soon as they were able to, and he had to say he was happy he let curiosity get the better of him and let her live. Okay, he might have panicked when he saw her with his three horcruxes, but otherwise, he was pleased with how she was developing as a woman and as a person.

Okay, that came out wrong in his mind. What he meant was that she stayed true to what she said in their first and only encounter, that she would try not to disappoint … and she kept her word, because it was never a dull moment with her.

“That’s still six months away,” Barty reminded.

“She’ll be busy with her O.W.L.s and the tournament. She needn’t concern her head with me as well. And if I already waited almost twelve years to get a temporary body, I suppose six months isn’t that much time,” he said.

She should focus on the tournament and her education and spending time with her friends, even if he felt envious of them … and he didn’t even comprehend why it bothered him so much. It’s not like she dated anyone, according to Lucius’ spawn’s weekly reports on Aya, and even if she did … it shouldn’t matter to him, right?

Yet, the idea of her finding someone to love like that made his stomach churn for some reason. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all … However … On second thought … He might not mind that idea as much if those feelings were to be directed at him …

What was wrong with him? (Plenty of things actually.) He should stop that train of thought immediately, before his mind went places it should never even consider going … especially not with Aya. She was too young and he was too old, and she might not even see him like that. Even if the Restoration Ritual is successful, his looks might never improve.

“She might not like what you’re planning,” said Barty.

“She might not like it, but in the end, she will help me, just like she helped me in her first year,” assured him Voldemort. After all, she was going to be his Queen … his Empress and Lady.

‘STOP IT!’

“Just make sure she wins the tournament.”

“I don’t think I will have to intervene,” commented Barty. “She’s smart. She has style. Rodolphus and I didn’t even have to fabricate our points or interfere in general.”

“I know she got through the first task without a hitch,” he said, and it was an understatement. The way she dealt with that Horntail was glorious … a thing of legends. When Barty and Rodolphus provided their memories, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, and her movements and words did things to him that he never thought he would ever feel.

“However, there are still two more tasks ahead,” insisted Voldemort. He had faith in her and her abilities and determination, but one could never be too careful and there was too much on the line for him to let anything be left to chance and fate.

“Look … just be on your guard to step in if something somehow goes wrong. You’re the only one I can trust with this.”

Barty felt immense joy and pride at those words. “I will, my Lord.”

He would not disappoint his master. He would not fail him like so many have. He would make sure Aya touched that cup first and helped his master return to a fully functioning body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... in the end, Aya went to the Ball ... with George as her official dance partner. Though you could argue that all of her friends were her dancing partners at some point during the Ball xD As well as the horcruxes when they have their Latino dance party xD Unfortunately there was no demonic cosplay involved, so, sorry for those who hoped for that, but she did try to look like a goddess ;) I'll leave a couple of pictures of how Aya looked like, especially her hair, dress, and shoes if you are struggling to picture it.  
>   
> 
> On another note, before I start listing all the music and videos that were used as a reference in the chapter, I would like to ask you who do you think Aya will have to save for the second task? Leave your guesses in the comments. 
> 
> As for the music and dances, it's up to you if you feel like checking them out, but I will still leave you with a complete list ;3
> 
> First, the Latino music with the horcruxes:  
> Ramses: Celia Cruz - La vida es un carnaval  
> Tom: Gente de Zona ft. Marc Anthony - La Gozadera  
> Marvolo: Ricky Martin - La Bomba  
> Gaunt: Elvis Crespo - Suavemente  
> Moriarty: Jencarlos Canela ft. Zion & Lennox - Junto a ti
> 
> For the dances referenced in the chapter:  
> Waltz: https://youtu.be/QpMhcb9hHxQ  
> Quadrille: https://youtu.be/1IQ1-nRxr64 (in my country, this is a dance that we dance at prom and a parade at the end of high school on the streets of large cities)  
> Cha cha: https://youtu.be/qJLlbS6FWek  
> Foxtrot: https://youtu.be/E4maujYGOJM  
> Salsa: https://youtu.be/5pHPKTFOskU
> 
> And finally, for the Yule Ball mega mixtape:  
> Siddharta - T. H. O. R. (English version)  
> Lordi - Hard Rock Hallelujah  
> Marlyn Manson - Beautiful People  
> SiM - EXiSTENCE  
> In Extremo - Two Sostra  
> Galena ft. Sergio - Pantera  
> Ustata - Pustono ludo i mlado  
> Basshunter - Boten Anna  
> Basshunter - Dota  
> BIG BANG - Fantastic Baby  
> BIG BANG - Bang Bang Bang  
> BTS - Boy in Luv  
> Baha Men - Who Let The Dogs Out  
> Reel 2 Real - I Like To Move It  
> DJ BoBo - CHIHUAHUA  
> Bellini - Samba Do Brasil  
> Lucenzo ft Big Ali - Vem dançar kuduro  
> Jessy Matador - Allez Ola Olé  
> PSY - GANGNAM STYLE  
> Baauer - Harlem Shake  
> Las Ketchup - Asereje  
> Hey Baby (If You'll be My Girl) - DJ Otzi  
> K'NAAN - Wavin' Flag


	18. Fifth Year: The Black Lake, Exam Frenzy and the Maze

In the first week of January, all four champions decided to investigate their eggs. As soon as they opened one, their ears were assaulted by loud screeching that made them all flinch and grimace.

As they closed the egg, Aya commented, “What was that? A wizard’s version of an air horn?”

“I think I know what this is,” said Cedric.

“You do?”

“I think that’s Mermish.”

“Mermish?” repeated Aya, confused.

“The language spoken by merpeople,” he explained. “There’s only one way to corroborate it.”

“And dat iz?” prompted Viktor.

“We submerge our heads and eggs under water and only then we open the eggs.” The other three were eyeing him apprehensively. He sighed. “How about I do it and tell you what happens?”

…

“A song?” repeated Aya, when Cedric reported to them.

“Yeah, I don’t remember it word for word; we would have to write it down and then analyse it,” he said.

Aya shot her arm up. “I volunteer to write it down. You three can report the lines to me.”

“Okay,” they shrugged.

“Then, let’s go,” said Aya enthusiastically to the other three. “The sooner we get the song written down, the sooner we can start analysing it and figuring shit out.”

Cedric, Viktor, and Fleur exchanged looks then followed Aya.

They went to the Prefects’ bathroom and filled the tub with water. Then, Fleur, Cedric and Viktor knelt at the edge of the tub, fully clothed, and agreed to go individually, each listening to a line or as much as they were able to remember at once, reporting it, then another would submerge his or her head and listen from where the previous champion stopped reporting.

Armed with a spiral notebook and a muggle pen, Aya dutifully recorded each line that Cedric, Viktor and Fleur reported alternately, before dunking their heads under water again to listen to the next line they were due to report.

…

“So this is now the entire poem,” said Aya and read it aloud:

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this;_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And recover what we took,_

_But past an hour — the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back._

She looked at the other three champions, her notebook and pen still in hand. “Any ideas right off the bat?” she asked. “Right now, we are in a brainstorming phase, so anything that comes to mind goes. We’ll narrow it down later.”

As she was talking, she drew a mind map with “second task” in the middle and arrows pointing outwards like branches.

“Under water,” said Fleur.

“Merpeople,” added Cedric.

“Hostages,” provided Viktor.

“Loss.”

“Kidnapping.”

“Rescue hostages.”

“One hour.”

“Black Lake.”

Aya wrote down everything the other three have provided so far. As she wrote down the last suggestion, she sighed and looked at the entire mind map.

“Okay, so I think we have the main things jotted down. Now, we just need to group and connect these ideas.”

Her eyes darted between the phrases written on the mind map, until she was sure, she had it figured out. She placed her notebook with the mind map in the middle of the table so the other three could see as well.

“Okay, I think we have who, what, where, and how long,” she told them. “The second task will take place _under water_ in the _Black Lake_.” She underlined those two things on the mind map. “The _merpeople_ that live there will _kidnap_ our loved ones and we will have to _rescue the hostages_ in _one hour_ , otherwise we _lose_ them forever. Although I sincerely hope that just means we fail the task and that our loved ones get out of that alive, because if not … heads will roll.”

“Zat makes sense,” said Fleur.

“How are dey going to know which person to take?” wondered Viktor.

“That’s what I want to know as well,” said Aya. “I mean, I have a lot of people who I would _sorely miss_ ; my parents, my friends … I have a lot of friends.”

“I suppose they will just have to narrow it down to which type of bond is most important; romantic, friendship or familial bond,” pondered Cedric. “I love and care about my friends and family, but what I feel for Cho is much stronger and more intense than anything I’ve felt. So I can see Cho as being my hostage to rescue before the time runs out,” concluded Cedric. The other three were looking at him.

Viktor cleared his throat. “I knov vat you mean. Herm-own-ninny makes me feel free. I have friends, good friends, but how I feel when I’m with Herm-own-ninny is something different. Like, I can be myself with her. She sees past my fame as a Quidditch player, and she doesn’t fawn over me like most girls. I knov she likes me, and I like her, but she’s never been forceful about her feelings towards me and I like that,” he told them and they listened. “I dread the day this tournament will end, because that will mean I will have to return to Bulgaria and she will stay here.”

Aya placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure Hermione feels the same way about that. She might not talk about it, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she has that thought present,” she told him. “You may not see each other, but you can still write to each other … or if you decide to get yourself a muggle mobile phone, have it warded against magic interference, then you can talk to each other. You know, there are plenty of useful apps for smartphones, such as FaceTime, where you can see and talk to the other person, WhatsApp, if you want to chat in real time, it’s definitely a hundred if not thousand times faster than owl post for sure, and many more,” she said happily. “And the best part is … they are mostly for free.”

Viktor’s face brightened at that. “Maybe I will,” he said, smiling. “Are smartphones expensive?”

“They can be, yes, but you can pay it in instalments over a course of a year, maybe two.”

“I’ll ask Herm-own-ninny which one she has so I can get the same one.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” smiled Aya.

She heaved a sigh.

“Well, we’ve established the hostages for Cedric and Viktor,” summarised Aya. “What about you, Fleur?” she turned to her.

She shrugged. “I don’t ‘ave a boyfriend. I don’t ‘ave many friends. But I do ‘ave my little sister, Gabrielle,” she said with a smile. Then, the smile disappeared and was replaced by a frown. “If anything were to ‘appen to ‘er … I don’t know what I would do,” she admitted. “She’s family and it would be like losing part of myself.”

Cedric and Viktor couldn’t really relate, since neither of them had any brothers or sisters, but Aya understood perfectly what Fleur was talking about. She might not have blood siblings, but she did have friends, who she considered siblings. Just the incident with Hermione, when she saw her hurt and in pain, made her feel horrible, like her heart stopped for a moment and indescribable fear and dread settled in her chest and throat at the sight of her lying injured on the floor.

“That still doesn’t help me narrow down my list of friend-siblings and adoptive fathers,” commented Aya. “I suppose Hermione is out for me, but there are still …” she started counting all her remaining friends on her fingers. It took a while to get everyone. “… nine friends plus two parents. Then again, I suppose it doesn’t matter which one from the eleven people that remain dear to me will be taken, I will save them regardless.”

She supposed she could count Voldemort and his horcruxes as important as well, but nobody knew about them and it was for the best if it stayed that way until Voldemort felt comfortable revealing himself to the public again.

“True,” the other three agreed.

“Anyway, now that we know what awaits us for the next task, can we all agree that whoever thought setting the second task in freezing ass cold water in the middle of winter was a good idea is an idiot?”

They nodded.

“And the rest of the people who said okay to this idea are idiots too. Like … what were they smoking to approve that idiotic idea for a Triwizard Tournament Task?”

She turned to them with a worried expression. “I hope none of you is stupid enough to dive into the lake without a really powerful heating charm protecting them from the cold. Like, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to ruin my ovaries.” She caressed her lower abdomen with care. “I want to come out of this tournament able to conceive, because I want to be a mother, dammit.”

The rest of them agreed, only that in Cedric and Viktor’s case, instead of frozen ovaries they worried about frozen balls.

Suddenly, Aya gasped dramatically.

“What is it?” questioned Cedric, worried.

“I just realised they expect us to _look_ and _breath_ _under water_ ,” said Aya, horrified, “for an hour!”

“Yeah …” said Cedric slowly, “I thought that was obvious.”

“I can’t look under water,” exclaimed Aya. “As soon as something gets in my eyes, I close them and I can’t search for my hostage with closed shits.”

The other three winced and hissed in sympathy. “Yeah … that might be a problem.”

Aya glared at them. “You don’t say,” she retorted sarcastically.

She sighed a moment later. “I’ll have to look into scuba diving equipment … At least I have a month and a half to get the wetsuit and the snorkelling mask,” mused Aya. “Should I get ear plugs as well?” She stroked her chin and frowned pensively. After a while, she said, “Eh, fuck it. Why not?”

Cedric, Viktor and Fleur exchanged confused looks and shrugs.

…

When each of the champions had their magical way of breathing under water decided (Cedric and Fleur would both use Bubble-Head Charm, Viktor would partially transfigure himself into a shark, and Aya would use gillyweed Neville had so kindly volunteered to procure for her), an idea formed in Aya’s mind.

“I have an idea,” she said carefully. The other three looked up from their books about magical water life.

“What do you have in mind now?” Cedric prompted her.

“I think we should tie this task.”

Cedric, Viktor, and Fleur arched their eyebrows in surprise.

“I mean we should work as a team and complete the task at the same time. We don’t know how many underwater creatures we might face in the lake nor how dangerous and annoying they can be,” explained Aya. “Sure, we can study them in books, but books and theory are one thing and reality and practice another. If we face the underwater dangers together, we can get to our hostages quicker and safer.”

They had mixed feelings about Aya’s proposition. On one hand, they saw the benefits of co-operation in such a situation, but they also knew that if they tied this task, the ranking will remain the same and the decisive task would be the third task.

“You do know zat if we go with your suggestion you are in ze best position?” said Fleur with narrowed eyes.

Aya gulped. Yes, she knew perfectly well this strategy benefitted her the most in terms of points, but in terms of how high the success rate would be for all of them, they would all benefit equally. It was true that she was determined to win the tournament, but she was also determined to come out of it alive.

“Yes,” she admitted, “I’m aware that I will continue in the lead if we all get the same amount of points and, since I want to win, that strategy benefits me in terms of points and standing. However, we would all benefit from it, because if underwater creatures attack us, especially in large numbers, we can help each other fend them off and make sure everyone gets to their hostage safely, without getting lost as well,” she argued. “Whereas if each champion worked alone, we make ourselves vulnerable.”

She eyed them. “Are you with me on this one?”

They exchanged looks with one another, until Viktor said, “Fine. Ve’ll vork together on this task, but only on this one. Then, in the third one, it’s each for themselves.”

She smiled. “Agreed.”

…

As part of their teamwork, they needed a sign language to communicate under water. They only needed a few signs to signal things to each other. For example, showing a circle formed with your thumb and forefinger meant you were okay. Thumbs up meant you wanted to go up. Thumbs down meant descent. Running a flattened palm across your neck meant you were out of air. The palm with all five fingers extended meant stop. A shake of the head meant no. A nod meant yes. And putting the forefingers next to each other meant staying together.

While they practiced and memorised the signs, Aya went shopping with her fathers one weekend at the beginning of February for a full-body scuba diving wetsuit, a snorkelling mask that covered the nose and some earplugs to keep her ear canals free of water.

A week before the task, Aya half-jokingly asked Cedric, “Say Cedric,” she began, “you’ve been at Hogwarts for two years more than I have, and I was wondering if you’ve ever met the rumoured Giant Squid.”

Cedric was confused by the question. “Uh, no, I haven’t,” he said carefully. “Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking that if the Giant Squid actually exists, we might want to ask it for help in either showing us the way to the merpeople village to save us time or even helping us fend them off,” she said excitedly and looked at them expectantly.

The other three champions were speechless.

“I suppose we could give it a try,” said Cedric carefully. “But I am not sure how we would be able to communicate with the squid.”

In the end, nothing came out of Aya’s latest idea, but it was worth a try anyway.

…

On February 24th, everyone gathered on the shore of the Black Lake. As the champions assembled as well, Cedric, Viktor, and Fleur were dressed in their own versions of swimsuit, with Cedric and Viktor also wearing a T-shirt.

Aya shed her clothes to reveal her black with skull design full-body wetsuit, something that attracted the attention of the judges and everyone else. She mostly chose it because the artwork on the wetsuit was right up her alley, but if Voldemort ended up somehow seeing her in the wetsuit, she hoped he would recognise the skulls as an homage to his Dark Mark.

“I’m glad to see you again,” said Bagman joyfully as he approached them. “I hope you managed to get some rest and that you are ready for what awaits you today.”

Aya pulled out her snorkelling mask and put it on.

“You will have one hour to complete the task ahead of you, which is dive into the lake, retrieve what has been stolen from you and come back to the surface. If you are unable to complete the task in an hour or if you are unable to retrieve your hostage, you automatically get zero points,” informed them Bagman. “The scoring system for this task is as follows, if you complete the task in 45 minutes to an hour, you get 50 points. If you complete the task between 30 to 45 minutes, you get 75 points. And if you manage to complete the task in less than half an hour, you get 100 points. Simple as that. Any questions?”

All four champions shook their heads.

“Then we’ll start in five minutes. Get ready.”

All four of them walked into the lake, until the water reached their thighs. They all had heating charms protecting them from the cold.

Aya nestled the gillyweed Neville had provided to her just before he joined the others in the stands in her hands, while the Salty Solution to counter gillyweed effects hung around her neck under the wetsuit together with Marvolo and Gaunt.

“We will get those 100 points each,” assured them Aya in a whisper. “Just stay together and pay attention to our surroundings.”

They nodded.

A few moments later, Aya swallowed the gillyweed, although she gagged at the taste, and put the earplugs into her ears. Not long after that, the horn, signalling the start of the task, sounded and all champions dived into the lake simultaneously.

…

As Aya developed gills, she couldn’t help but think that it was one of the weirdest and most uncomfortable things she had ever experienced. It was even weirder than feeling warm blood ooze out of her vagina seven days a month.

She waited for Viktor to transfigure his head into a shark one, and Cedric and Fleur to cast their Bubble-Head Charms. Once they were all able to breathe under water, she checked if everything was okay.

They all signed ‘ _okay’_.

‘ _Descend_ ,’ she signed with her thumb down, ‘ _stay together_ ’. The other three nodded and dived deeper into the lake.

As they descended deeper and deeper into the water, they were looking out for creatures and signs of the underwater village, where their loved ones were. After several minutes of eerily peaceful descent, they stopped and checked on each other’s well-being again.

When they once again confirmed that everyone still had enough air supply, they looked around, until Cedric spotted a swarm of fish and signed, ‘ _That way_.’

They moved simultaneously.

Everything was going well, until a group of grindylows ambushed them unexpectedly. They wrapped themselves around their limbs and faces with their tentacles and arms. Aya managed to rip the grindylow that had wrapped itself around her head away, then gathered its tentacles in a firm grip and began swatting other grindylows with it like a baseball bat.

It didn’t prove to be very effective, but at least it gave her enough space and time to cast the Revulsion Jinx, which temporarily stunned the creatures, letting Cedric, Fleur and Viktor cast their own Revulsion Jinxes as well.

While the grindylows were still stunned from four Revulsion jinxes, the champions fled the area. Two hundred or so meters later, they stopped to check if everyone was okay. When they had somewhat recovered from the encounter with the grindylows, Fleur heard singing.

She signed them to swim in that direction and as the singing became louder, though Aya couldn’t hear anything because of the earplugs, a few stray merpeople started to appear to stare at them curiously.

With their wands in hand, they slowly advanced deeper into the merpeople territory.

As stony arches and pillars covered in algae became denser and denser, it proved hard to see far ahead. It reminded Aya of a sunken temple ruins, and as they approached what looked to be the centre of the structure, they saw four people floating, their ankles tied and weighed with giant stones.

As the four champions got closer, they recognised Severus, Hermione, Cho, and Gabrielle. At the same time, at least a hundred mermaids and mermen came out of their homes and started circling around them, watching them.

They looked at each other.

‘ _On three?_ ’ signed Aya.

She received three nods in return.

She started the count down, then, simultaneously, four severing charms shot out of the wands, cutting the ropes around their loved ones’ ankles. Then, each champion grabbed their person and together they began ascending after Aya signed, ‘ _Up_.’

Soon after, they burst out of the water, each with their hostage at their side. As the hostages’ heads came to the surface, they opened their eyes. Muffled cheers echoed from the stands on the shore, and the giant clock that kept track of their 60 minutes, just signalled 30 minutes.

Aya quickly drank the Salty Solution to counter the effects of gillyweed. As the liquid ran down her throat, she grimaced and shivered involuntarily at the taste. But it did its job and enabled her to breath above water again.

All eight people swam to the shore. “So … Papa Sev,” asked Aya, sounding nasal because of the snorkelling mask, while they were swimming side by side a few meters behind everyone else, “how does it feel to be rescued by your own superhero daughter?”

“Ecstatic,” he retorted with a grin. He raised a hand to her head and rested it there. “My superhero.”

She smiled back.

“However,” his grin disappeared and was replaced by a frown and a cut dry voice, “as much as it pleases me to know you would sorely miss me, I was not ecstatic when I was called up to the headmaster’s office and told I was going to be put under Stasis Charm and thrown in the freezing cold Black Lake.”

She winced sympathetically. “I can imagine … Did they at least put a Heating Charm on you as well?”

“They did, but only because I refused to be submerged without one,” he grumbled. “At least they were sensible enough to apply it to all hostages.”

“Were you with Papa Siri when they called on you?”

“Indeed I was. I suppose I don’t have to tell you what we were doing when it happened.”

She giggled. “You don’t. My imagination is already supplying my brain with all kinds of erotic images.”

“Sometimes I wish you were more innocent,” sighed Severus, dejected.

She laughed. “Anyway,” she added on a more serious note, “did you tell Sirius about it?”

“Of course I did and he wasn’t happy when I did.” He thought for a moment. “Actually, unhappy is an understatement. Had I not intervened and calmed him down, he would have filed a lawsuit.”

“You must have _really_ gone to great lengths to calm him down then, because there hasn’t been any news in the press about Sirius Black suing the Ministry for unnecessary endangerment of one Severus Snape,” said Aya, grinning like a pervert and wiggling her eyebrows.

Severus only sighed and rolled his eyes. For the life of him, he would never understand how Aya turned out so … dirty-minded. She was almost as bad as Sirius in that regard. Actually, he wasn’t entirely sure who was worse: Aya or Sirius. Probably both were just as bad … to varying degrees.

“What I did to calm him down is for me to know and for you to wonder.”

She laughed some more.

"In any case,” he said, changing the topic of the conversation, “if it weren’t me, who was stuck at the bottom of the lake, it would have been him or any of your friends. So, I agreed to do it … At least they assured us we would not have been left to rot at the bottom of the lake, should any of the champions fail to rescue us.”

Aya’s expression darkened. “Yeah,” she said grimly, “if they failed to bring you back to the surface, intact … Sirius wouldn’t be filing a lawsuit … he would have gone on a killing spree and I would have gladly accompanied him in the carnage.”

Severus wasn’t sure if he should feel flattered that Sirius and Aya would kill for him, or worried. He should probably feel the latter, but it felt good to know they cared enough to go to such lengths for him.

“But it didn’t come to that,” he said instead. “I will say, however, that I was surprised I was the first option.”

She smiled. “I’m not. After all, for the longest time, you’ve been my absolute favourite person on the planet.” Her lips stretched into another goofy, toothy grin.

There was warmth and gentleness shining in his dark eyes as he regarded her with a soft smile.

…

“Now that all four champions are here, we can finally announce the surprising results,” said Bagman with his magically augmented voice as they climbed out of the lake. The crowd went silent. “It was a close call, but all four champions have managed to complete the task in 29 minutes and 56 seconds. It is curious that you have simultaneously finished the task, but nonetheless each will receive 100 points as stipulated by the criteria. Congratulations!”

The crowd erupted into an applause again.

“We will see you on June 24th for the final task,” said Bagman, then cancelled his Sonorus Charm and spoke directly to the champions. “Until then, rest and those preparing for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s,” he glanced at Aya and Cedric, “I wish you good luck with the exams.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bagman,” chorused Aya and Cedric. As they watched him leave, the champions turned to each other.

“Good vork,” said Viktor, smiling.

“In ze end, it was a good idea we stuck togezer,” said Fleur, relieved. “If zose grindylows ‘ad got us alone …” She shuddered. “I don’t want to sink what would ‘ave ‘appened.”

“And we really received 100 points,” said Cedric, still not quite processing that fact. “I can’t believe we got to the surface four seconds before thirty minutes. It’s like we timed it just right.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” said Aya dramatically. “I told you we would make it and we made it, safe and sound,” she concluded smugly, her snorkelling mask dangling at her hip and from her wrist.

…

With four full months before the final task, Aya decided to forget about the tournament and dedicate all her time and energy to school again.

Before March even started, Aya was already slowly revising her first-year textbooks and notes, summarising main points from each subject to make everything more digestible and comprehensive. By the middle of March, she did the same with her second-year books and notes, by April, her third year, by mid-April her fourth and as she started reviewing her fifth year, she noticed all O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students freaking out.

Hannah and Susan were on the verge of having a mental breakdown, Hermione was constantly muttering things under her breath, memorising the data, and Daphne was tense and snappy. Even Fred and George had a book with them at the meals, quizzing each other as they ate breakfast, lunch or supper.

“What if I fail?” panicked Hannah. “What if I repeat a year? What if I am held back for a subject?”

“You won’t fail,” assured her Aya. “If you managed to get through four years of education, then you can get through O.W.L.s as well,” she reasoned. “They are just exams.”

Hannah and Susan gaped at her.

“Just exams?” whispered Hannah, her eye twitching and head jerking. “Just exams! Aya, these _exams,_ ” she spat, “determine our _entire_ future in the wizarding world.”

“Exactly,” agreed Susan. “If you don’t score high enough on subjects you might not be allowed to continue them on N.E.W.T. level. Do you realise how devastating it is if it’s a subject that’s crucial for your chosen career?”

“I am aware, yes,” said Aya calmly. “However, panicking won’t help you and dosing yourselves with numerous potions to stay awake longer, sharpen your wits or to calm yourselves won’t either.”

“How can you be so relaxed about it?” wondered Hannah. “I swear you and Neville are like the only people who are not freaking out in some way over the exams. What is your secret?”

“Nothing special,” shrugged Aya nonchalantly, “just yoga, meditation, and breathing exercises.”

“What is that?” asked Susan.

“Something muggles do to relieve stress, increase attention and focus, and balance the body and mind,” explained Aya. “As you saw with Neville, it is extremely effective if practiced through a prolonged period of time.”

“Do you think two weeks will be enough?” asked Hannah desperately.

“If you start as soon as possible it should be, yes,” shrugged Aya. “The key is to become aware of yourself and your body.”

“Can you show us how to do … what you said?” inquired Susan.

“Of course, just say when you want to start.”

“How about tonight,” said Hannah.

…

As Aya and Neville were instructing their friends in yoga, meditation and breathing exercises, Aya had an epiphany: what if Neville and she were to give yoga, meditation and breathing instructions to all fifth and seventh year students.

Neville didn’t mind, but the only problem was acquiring a big and quiet enough space to do it. Aya went to her father Severus and asked him if he could arrange a big enough classroom, while Neville set up a notice that he then hung all around Hogwarts with McGonagall’s permission. It read:

**_ARE YOU A FIFTH OR A SEVENTH YEAR HOGWARTS STUDENT? IS THE PRESSURE FROM O.W.L.s AND N.E.W.T.s GETTING TO YOU? ARE YOU NERVOUS AND CONCERNED ABOUT FAILING THE EXAMS?_ **

_If **YES** , then you are cordially invited to sign up for basic yoga, meditation and breathing classes, where you will learn how to relax, increase focus and attention, and regulate your breathing to calm your nerves. _

_There will be 5 sessions (25 – 29 April), 30 minutes each, starting at 19:00 in the classroom 1B (Transfiguration Classroom)._

_If you’re interested, sign up by lunch on April 24 th by putting your name on the attendance lists kept by the instructors Aya Potter-Snape-Black and Neville Longbottom. Make sure to be dressed in whatever makes you most comfortable and wear slippers._

_Thank you!_

_Aya Potter-Snape-Black and Neville Longbottom_

When Aya came up with the idea, she didn’t expect many people to respond to the open invitation. It was sudden and probably those who weren’t muggleborn or muggle-raised wouldn’t know what yoga and meditation even were. However, she was surprised as students from all four houses kept coming to her (and Neville) with a quill to sign their names on the list, even Draco Malfoy. (Luckily, neither Ronald, Zacharias nor those five rabid bitches she beat up in December signed up.)

…

The weekend before the first yoga/meditation/breathing session, Aya and Neville were busy planning the program.

They browsed YouTube for yoga and meditation videos, until they found three yoga routines for beginners: one for morning, one for bedtime and one for neck and shoulder tension. They also added the sun salutation routine as a variant for the morning routine, and handpicked five different breathing techniques.

As introduction to their classes, they decided to talk briefly about what yoga and meditation were and why they were useful to their fellow students, therefore, they read a bit about each on the internet.

When Monday came, they arrived at the classroom fifteen minutes earlier to transfigure the desks and benches into a sufficient number of yoga mats. As the students began to trickle inside and the clock on Aya’s phone showed 19:00, they began their session.

They first thanked and welcomed their classmates. For the first ten minutes, Aya spent half of that time explaining yoga, while Neville spent the other half of those ten minutes explaining meditation. After that, Aya briefly mentioned the importance of different breathing techniques, then proceeded to show the most basic one, the same one she did with Neville first. For the next ten minutes, Aya guided her classmates through the breathing exercise.

For the last ten minutes, Neville and Aya guided their classmates through the morning yoga routine, which they would have to do each morning until the end of exams, if they wanted it to take effect. The same applied to the breathing techniques and meditation.

On Tuesday, Neville showed another breathing exercise and guided the others through it for the first ten minutes. The rest of the session was then dedicated to a guided visual meditation, where they were alternately guiding their classmates through the routine.

On Wednesday, Aya took the first ten minutes to introduce another breathing technique, until Neville took over and did a twenty-minute bedtime yoga routine.

On Thursday, they changed roles again, with Neville taking care of yet another breathing exercise, while Aya showed her classmates the Sun Salutation yoga routine. “If you want,” she told them as she was reaching up to the sky with her hands, “you can do this routine instead of the one Neville and I showed you on Monday.”

For their last session on Friday, Aya showed them the fifth and final breathing exercise Neville and she had chosen, while Neville showed them a yoga routine for neck and shoulder tension. “It is important to know how to relax those muscles,” he narrated as he slowly moved his head up and down, hands intertwined on his nape and shoulders spread, “especially now that you are reading a lot and straining your necks.”

Unbeknownst to everyone but Aya, Tom, Marvolo, Gaunt and Ramses (she kept Tom and Ramses inside her bag to keep them from view) did every yoga, breathing and meditation routine alongside Aya … just because they could and wanted to.

When the first day of exams came, all the fifth and seventh year students that attended the yoga and meditation classes were completely calm and collected. The other students were confused and impressed at the same time, and the staff as well.

McGonagall signalled them to approach her when their eyes met at breakfast.

“Fifty points to both of you for helping your fellow students mentally prepare themselves for their exams,” she whispered as they came close. “I’m proud of you two,” she smiled, her eyes shining with the same kind of emotion.

Aya and Neville smiled back.

…

“And … how did you do?” prompted Aya her friends, a smug grin plastered all over her face, after their first day of O.W.L. exams.

“You know,” said Hannah, “surprisingly very good. I feel like I aced that shit.”

“I know what you mean,” interjected Susan. “Looks like yoga and meditation helped a lot.”

“I told you, didn’t I?” said Aya, still grinning like a maniac. “Just don’t stress yourselves unnecessarily and you’ll get through the exams.”

Despite the demanding schedule, the majority of students remained alert and focussed, keeping their cool. At the end of the first week, many of the students that applied for the yoga and meditation sessions came up to Neville and Aya to thank them.

Who would have thought something so small would affect them so much and in the best way possible?

As soon as the exams ended, fifth and seventh years breathed a collective sigh of relief and proceeded to celebrate the end of the exams.

Most of them took advantage of the Hogsmeade weekend the professors gave them, knowing they would need some fun and relaxation to let go of the stress. However, since Aya had her Hogsmeade visitation rights revoked, her friends and she decided to celebrate in their secret room.

There was plenty of food, music and refreshments as well as games to pass the time. Aya’s favourite part was when they jumped the elastic band, because of all the memories that brought to her mind when she skipped the rope with her classmates in kindergarten and primary school. Like, that was their shit back then.

Suddenly, Aya felt old, even though it was like … seven years since she last played with elastic rope.

Ah, the good old times, where everything was simple and revolved around playing and having fun. Not that she wasn’t playing and having fun as a teenager, but soon she would have different priorities in life … and she was aware of that.

…

On June 24th, at exactly 17:00, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament took place. The audience and champions gathered at the Quidditch pitch fifteen minutes before the official start, where a giant circular maze stood in its green glory in the middle.

Aya didn’t take anything beside her wand, her smartphone, which she placed in her trouser pocket, and her special blanket, which she had carefully folded and tied around her belly under her shirt.

As she looked around the pitch, she noticed there were four poles, each bearing a number and stationed at the main cardinal directions.

Bagman approached them with a leather pouch, similar to how they drew the competing order for the first task.

“Greetings,” he said, smiling, “I hope everything went well with the exams and that you are now ready for the final task.”

All four of them nodded.

“Very good,” he said, satisfied. “As you can see, there is a maze you will have to navigate. Your goal will be to arrive at the centre of the maze where the cup is waiting for its champion. Touch it and you will be transported back here. The champion that touches the cup will receive 100 points. The other three champions still need to reach the centre of the maze and press a giant red button next to the pedestal where the cup was,” he explained to them. “Second place will award you 80 points, third place 60 and fourth place 40 points.”

“However, be careful on your way there, because no matter which path you choose, they are all filled with danger,” he warned them. “The path you will take will be determined by the number you pull out of the pouch. No matter which number you pull, you will all start at the same time. Now, let’s start with the gentlemen this time.”

He approached Cedric, who pulled out number 3, and Viktor, who pulled out number 2. Fleur pulled out number 4 and Aya pulled out number 1.

“Right, now that you all have your numbers, please move to the corresponding entrance. We will begin in five minutes at the sound of the horn.”

Bagman left to join the panel of judges and the champions turned to each other one last time and placed their hands in the middle.

“May the best win,” said Aya. The others nodded and let out a warrior-like sound. They let go of their hands and each walked to their own entrance. Aya’s was located on the north side of the pitch.

As she stared at the foggy path ahead of her, waiting for the horn to sound, she was trying to think of a glitch in the rules of the task to bypass every combat encounter. If anything the past two years and a half of gaming have taught her is that unless scripted there is always a way to cheat a system and she was going to do just that and by doing that ensure her absolute victory.

As an idea formed in her mind after she recalled one of her favourite franchises (Assassin’s Creed), the horn sounded and without ado, she entered.

Five metres into the maze, there was a rustling behind her and the path she came from closed.

She looked at the hedge on her sides. It wasn’t too tall and the branches were dense and solid looking enough to make the hedge climbable. It was now her turn to overcome her fear of heights, become an Assassin like Ezio or Altaïr, and climb the twenty-foot high hedge to get the bird’s eye view.

She lodged one of her feet into the hedge, then heaved herself up. ‘Dammit,’ she cursed internally and out of breath, ‘when was the last time I tried to climb a tree, ha? I swear it feels like a century ago, even though I’m not as nearly old enough.’

After what felt like an eternity (although it wasn’t even five minutes), she finally reached the top with her arms and was now struggling to get her legs up as well. She swung her left leg up, and managed to hook the heel into the hedge branches and pulled herself up.

She landed on her back, completely winded. She turned on her belly and all fours, before taking her special blanket from under her shirt and covering herself with it.

Now that she was invisible, she stood on her feet, slightly crouched and looked at the entire maze structure. She looked for dangerous areas, which she would avoid completely or pass by quickly before the creatures could sense her, as well as how the hedges were connected and which the shortest path to the shiny centre of the maze was.

Moving with haste and caution, she navigated her way through the entire thing like a breeze. Much faster than if she was stupid enough to actually do it the way the judges thought she should do it. (No offense to Cedric, Viktor, and Fleur.)

It took her around ten minutes, give or take a few, to reach the centre, the cup glowing at the centre of the pedestal, between sphinx’s frontal paws.

After she folded and wrapped the blanket around her midsection again under the shirt, Aya approached it with sure and light steps, until she came close enough and saw a layer of glass protecting it. She now looked around for a lock and key, but found nothing.

“Greetings, champion.”

“Oh my shit!” Aya flinched and cursed at the jump scare. Breathing hard and with a hand pressed to her chest, she looked up and came face-to-face with a very much alive sphinx, who was looking at her with piercing amber eyes.

“Before you take the cup, you will have to solve three riddles correctly.”

“Tsk, I knew this couldn’t be that easy,” she cursed under her breath. She looked at the sphinx. “Okay, what are those riddles?”

“The first one is: What can run, but never walks; has a mouth, but never talks; has a head, but never weeps; has a bed, but never sleeps?”

That wasn’t so difficult. “A river,” she said confidently.

“Correct,” said the sphinx. “Next riddle. This thing all things devour: birds, beasts, trees, flowers; gnaws iron, bites steel; grinds hard stones to meal; slays kings, ruins towns; and beats high mountains down.”

Okay, this one was a little trickier, because of the initial wording, but the second part of the riddle made it clear to her that the answer could only be, “Time.”

“Impressive,” said the sphinx with inflection in her voice. “For a mortal that is. The final riddle. Some try to hide, some try to cheat; but time will show, we always will meet. Try as you might to guess my name; I promise you’ll know, when you I do claim.”

Okay, that one wasn’t that hard again. “Death,” she said.

“Intelligent little thing, are we?” said the sphinx sarcastically. “Now that you have answered your three riddles correctly, push the corresponding stones on the pillars in the same order as the answers to the riddles.”

‘Oh, shit,’ thought Aya as she looked around and saw four groups of three pillars with painted button-shaped stones located at the main compass points.

Okay, so her answers were river, time and death. She simply needed to look for visual representations of those three concepts on the pillar stones and push them in the same order she answered them. Simple enough.

She spotted three horizontal zigzag lines, representing the river and pushed it.

Nothing happened … yet.

Next, she spotted an hourglass, which measured time, and pushed it as well. For death, she found a skull and pushed it.

The glass case around the cup disintegrated and the sphinx stood on her paws.

“Congratulations, champion,” she said to her. “You are free to take your prize.”

Aya approached and touched the cup. As she touched it, a dome encapsulated the entire Quidditch pitch and all the people within it and she felt a similar pull as when she Side-Apparated with her parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Aya and Voldemort will finally meet again face-to-face and you know what this entails, right? ;3
> 
> As for this chapter, a lot of things happened. 
> 
> First, the second task ... I hope you enjoyed the way Aya approached it. :) I considered equipping her with a re-breather as well, but a bit of research showed those are freaking expensive and you need to know diving physics and how re-breathers work to operate them ... so I scratched that part out, and instead I stuck with gillyweed, but came up with the Salty Solution, because Aya wasn't going to spend 60 minutes under water just waiting for the gillyweed to wear off.  
> Her hostage probably isn't that surprising once you look back on all the relationships Aya has managed to establish throughout the fic to this point. And while Voldemort (and his horcruxes) has a very special place in her heart, people who were selecting hostages don't know that.  
> For those wondering how her wetsuit looked like, here's the picture:
> 
>  
> 
> As for the third task, again, I hope you enjoyed Aya's approach, what I will say in terms of the technical side of how I constructed the last part of the task is directly inspired by a boss fight in Assassin's Creed: Odyssey, where in order to retrieve an artefact you have to face a sphinx that poses you three riddles out of 12 possible ones and if you answer all of them correctly, you are then required to touch the symbols that represent your answers. And I took three of those riddles directly from the game so ... I don't want to claim I came up with them or the way the last part of the task was set up. I just took them and implemented them in my narrative, since the canon also had a sphinx and riddles. :)


	19. Fifth Year: Graveyard Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains explicit sexual content. One of the participants is underage (15). If the age of the character makes you uncomfortable, you can skip the sex. Also, any grammatical or lexical nonsense that you might encounter in this chapter is intentional and used for comedic purposes.
> 
> For those who will read the smut anyway, I look forward to your feedback. :) 
> 
> Besides smut, this chapter also has plenty of comedy and sexual tension (I mean, at least I hope I can make you laugh and excited with this one).

She landed unceremoniously on her bum on a patch of grass, but no cheers greeted her arrival. Strange, people should be going crazy over her victory and no sound other than crickets came to her ears.

She lifted her head and opened her eyes to look around, only to see a giant cauldron in the middle of a plain surrounded by … gravestones?

She looked at the spot she landed and started when she saw a giant statue of what looked to be the Angel of Death carrying a scythe and next to it a family gravestone … the Riddle Family stone. That must mean she was in Little Hangleton. But why was she in Little Hangleton and its graveyard?

Her eyes landed on the last name carved into the stone and her heart nearly stopped. She knew it wasn’t chronologically possible for her Tom and consequently Voldemort to have died in 1963, but seeing his name engraved in a gravestone made her anxious anyway.

“Miss Aya,” a voice from behind her startled her, “I hope the landing wasn’t too rough.”

She turned and saw …

“Mr. Bagman?” she squinted, not sure, if she was seeing correctly. “I thought touching the cup transported us directly outside the maze, not to a graveyard in a completely different part of Britain.”

He chuckled good-naturedly at her observation. “Don’t worry,” he assured her, “you’ll get back to Hogwarts … after you help me or rather someone else first.”

She had a déjà-vu moment from _all_ the way back, when she was in a similar situation with Professor Quirrell and Voldemort in her first year.

She noticed Bagman carrying a bundle. “Is it safe for me to assume that … what you’re carrying … is Voldemort?” she inquired carefully.

A raspy chuckle came from the bundle. “Your guess is correct yet again … Aya,” it said.

‘Yeah,’ she said to herself, ‘that’s definitely Voldemort.’ She would have recognised his satanic voice no matter how many years it had passed since she heard it for the first and last time.

She peeked at him and as soon as her gaze landed on a wrinkled child with thin limbs and skeletal appearance, and a face that strongly resembled the face Voldemort had in her first year, she let out an uncomfortable hiss.

“Dammit, Voldemort,” she cursed, “I swear … why do you have to look like something out of a horror movie every time we meet each other face to face, ha?” she ranted. “First, you look like an alien parasite stuck at the back of Quirrell’s head and now you look like an alien child a human female gave birth to after being impregnated by a tentacle alien monster.” She sighed, pinching her nose.

“I don’t know what exactly you’re talking about, but I was under the impression you were looking forward to seeing me and my face again,” retorted Voldemort.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you what I read and watch and you’re either going to enjoy it as much as I do and come to _my_ dark side or you’re just going to end up traumatised for all eternity,” said Aya matter-of-factly. “And yes, I was looking forward to seeing you again, but dammit Voldemort, I thought I would see a fully functional adult, not …” she waved her hands at him with a scrunched up face, “ _this_. What happened with the stone I helped you acquire in my first year?”

Voldemort grimaced. “I suppose I over-estimated the powers and the capacity of the stone,” he grumbled. “Because while it can extend a person’s life span, it cannot give an actual body to non-corporeal entities.”

Aya looked disappointed. “Shit,” she whispered with her hands on her hips.

“Exactly,” agreed Voldemort.

“So what now?” she prompted him. “What do you want me to help you with this time?”

“I need your blood in a ritual,” said Voldemort simply.

Aya just stared at him. “Blood?” she said in disbelief. “Just how much blood are we talking here? I don’t mind if it’s just a few drops, but not if it’s a _pint_ … or more.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry; a few drops will be more than enough.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Good,” she nodded, “and you couldn’t have just asked me for help?” she wanted to know. “How difficult was it to write ‘ _Yo, Aya, get your ass over here, I need your help with something_ ’ in one of the letters we exchanged last year, ha? You know I would have gladly said yes. Why did you have to enter me in a goddamned tournament?”

“Technically speaking, it was Barty polyjuiced as Ludo Bagman who put your name inside the goblet,” said Voldemort jerking his head towards the man holding him, “on my orders, of course,” he added with a grin.

She looked confused at not-Bagman. “So you’re _not_ the actual Ludovic Bagman?” inquired Aya.

“No, Miss Aya,” he returned smiling, “I’m not. I should be reverting to my original body any moment now.”

“Just don’t drop me,” hissed Voldemort.

“And you were the one who physically put my name inside the goblet?”

“That’s right, Miss.”

Aya stepped closer with an impassive expression, and then slapped him twice across the face, once from both sides.

Both Voldemort and Barty were shocked.

“I did say I would send the motherfucker who did it my regards,” she hissed with the index finger pointed at him and narrowed eyes, “you should be happy that it was just two slaps across the face.”

She turned to Voldemort with a glare. “I should slap you as well for this stunt, but I don’t hit those who are physically smaller and weaker than me,” she informed him. “Come here.” A moment later, she was taking him from Barty’s arms and cradling him against her chest.

Barty looked alarmed. “My Lord?”

“Relax, Barty, I’m not going to drop or otherwise hurt him,” she assured him.

“It’s fine, Barty,” said Voldemort.

He still looked wary, but accepted his master’s reassurance.

She looked down at Voldemort. “You’re lucky I was determined to win this motherfucking tournament,” she grumbled, fussing over his blanket, making sure he was properly tucked in it.

“I knew you would touch the cup first,” offered Voldemort.

She levelled him with a deadpan look. “Why thank you for having so much faith in me and my abilities. I’m honoured,” she said with sarcasm. She rubbed her temple in frustration. “I swear Voldemort, why are you so determined to make everything in your life more complicated than it needs to be?”

He frowned at her.

“First, it was the whole situation with the horcruxes,” she narrated. “Why create so many when you were already immortal with the first one?”

“I needed to be on the safe side, in case something happened to the journal,” explained Voldemort.

“That’s understandable,” allowed Aya, “but to make _seven_ horcruxes? Are you _stupid_?”

That insult earned her a glare and a threat. “Now, _you’re_ lucky I’m in this state, otherwise I would have cursed you for calling me stupid.”

“Of course you would,” scoffed Aya completely unfazed. “Then, this entire mess with your body, or the lack of it, could have been completely avoided if you had just ignored the goddamned prophecy,” continued Aya. “You are an immortal being and you were worried about a fucking baby? What could I have done to defeat you? Cover you in barf? Drool all over you? Make you pass out with the stench of a soiled diaper? Stab you in the eye with a rattle? Give you a heart attack with my cuteness?”

He averted his eyes. “You might not have been a threat as a baby,” he said quietly, “but Dumbledore and his Order could have trained you to hunt and destroy my horcruxes and ultimately kill me. I couldn’t risk it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she agreed. Then, she smiled gently at him. “And now?” she prompted him softly. “Am I a threat to you?”

His blood-red eyes sought her emerald-green. “No,” he grumbled under his breath.

Her lips split into a toothy grin as she brought him even closer to her chest in a hug and placed a cheek on top of his head.

A grunt of pain caught her attention. She looked at Barty, who was doubling over, his skin bubbling and morphing. She grimaced, squinting at the entire process. After it was done, he fell to his knees and hunched forward, still breathing heavily and gasping for air.

“Oh my shit, Barty, are you okay?” she hurried next to him.

“Yeah,” he gasped, “I’m okay.” He stood up and staggered a bit. Aya stretched out one of her hands to catch him by the arm if he swung too far back, but he already regained his balance.

Barty, a man in early-thirties with straw blond hair and a pale complexion with lots of freckles on his face, turned to his Lord and Master.

“My Lord,” he addressed him. “I don’t want to rush you, or anything, but shouldn’t we start with the Regeneration Ritual.”

“Of course,” agreed Voldemort. “You’re right, Barty.”

He took Voldemort back into his arms and approached the cauldron. Aya followed, intrigued.

“Besides my blood, what other ingredients are required for this ritual?” inquired Aya, peeking over Barty’s shoulder as he lighted the fire under the cauldron.

Barty shifted uncomfortably, looking at his Master. “Should we show her the recipe, my Lord?” 

“I don’t see why not,” shrugged Voldemort.

Barty took a crumpled piece of parchment with the recipe. Aya took it and read it.

“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!” She looked at the Riddle Family tombstone. “Oh so that’s why we’re in the graveyard,” she gasped in understanding.

She kept reading.

“Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master.” She looked at Barty with a horrified expression. “Uh … Barty? Just which part of your body were you planning on sacrificing?” before he could answer, she hurriedly added, “Don’t tell me it’s the _diugh_.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“You know,” said Aya, “the _diugh_.” When he still looked like he had absolutely no clue what in the fuck she was talking about, she decided to be more specific. “I mean the dick.”

Now it was Barty’s turn to look horrified. “What? No!” he sputtered. “I was planning on sacrificing a finger … a pinkie maybe.”

Relieved, she let out a sigh and pressed a hand to her chest. “Thank fuck,” she whispered, “I don’t want to think a dick was an ingredient that helped Voldemort return to his body.” She turned to Barty again. “And why a pinkie?” she wondered. “Why not a ring finger like an Assassin in the first Assassin’s Creed game?”

“Why a ring finger?”

“Because the ring finger apparently got in the way of the hidden blade strapped on their inner forearms, or it was something completely ritualistic,” she explained with a shrug. “In any case, I think it’s cool. Maybe Voldemort would be willing to provide you with a hidden blade so you could stab people from behind or if someone tries to overpower you physically.”

She returned to the parchment.

“Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe.” At this, she fell silent for a few long moments, just staring at the parchment and that last line.

“Is this why you didn’t simply ask me to come to you, Voldemort?” she said with deceiving calm. “Because you were going to forcibly take my blood?” Voldemort averted his eyes. “And what is this foe bullshit? I thought we weren’t enemies.”

“Can you pretend you’re my enemy for a few minutes and struggle a bit so that Barty can extract your blood by force?” said Voldemort.

She glared at him. “You’re not going to take anything from me by force,” she snarled.

She extended her free hand palm up towards Barty. “Give me something to write with,” she demanded.

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“You can’t mess with the potion,” hissed Voldemort, glaring at Aya.

She ignored him and continued to stare at Barty, her hand waiting for that bloody quill/pen. “Barty …” she called his name in a warning.

“Barty, don’t let her change the potion incantation,” insisted Voldemort.

“Barty, if you don’t want me to slap you again, or do something much worse, you’re going to give me something to write with so that I can slightly change the last line,” insisted Aya.

“We don’t know what will change if the incantation is modified,” countered Voldemort.

“Well, I’m not willing to let myself be tied up and cut up Lord knows where to get the blood you need,” argued Aya, looking at Voldemort.

They glared at each other, seething.

Aya was the first one to relax. “Look … I want you to get your body back,” she said gently. “If you want my help to get your body, I will help you get it, but my help is willing co-operation not forced participation. I’m going to help you, but it’s going to be done on my conditions.”

Voldemort snarled impotently and grumbled, “Fine … Give her a quill, Barty.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “If something goes wrong … I’m blaming you.”

She beamed at him and accepted the quill Barty was offering. “Okay … let’s see,” she said, crossing out the final line. She could see Voldemort flinch when she did that. “Don’t worry; I’ll just replace some words,” she tried to reassure him with a smile.

“That’s what I fear the most,” muttered Voldemort under his breath. She ignored his comment.

“I suppose we can retain blood,” she said, “but do blood types matter in this ritual?” she remembered the conundrum with the Blood Adoption Ritual.

Barty and Voldemort were confused.

“If this is anything like Blood Adoption, then I’m afraid I’m only compatible with AB+ patients as a donor,” said Aya.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Voldemort impatiently. “Right now, my ‘ _blood’_ is made from snake venom and unicorn blood. So I don’t think blood types matter.”

“Well sorry for worrying about you,” Aya snapped back at him.

She returned to the parchment, tapped her chin in thought with the feather and soon after, she started scribbling something.

“What do you think of this line: Blood of the ally, willingly sacrificed-slash-given, you will resurrect your friend?”

Voldemort looked like he ate something extremely bitter and sour, while Barty looked like he wanted to agree with her out of politeness but she could tell he didn’t like the wording very much.

“Okay, we need a replacement for _willingly_ , _sacrificed_ and _given_ , because I don’t want to repeat something twice,” she agreed.

“What about _readily offered_?” suggested Barty.

Her expression lit up. “That’s a good one, Barty,” she praised and quickly wrote it down. “Blood of the ally, readily offered, you will resurrect your friend.”

Voldemort still looked unsatisfied.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“ _Ally_ and _friend_?” he snorted. “I know we are, but use something else in a potion incantation, for the love of Merlin. This makes it sound so common and lacklustre. If you’re already going to butcher the incantation, you might as well make it more solemn.”

“And what alternatives do you propose we use then?” she prompted him. “Because I can’t think of any synonyms for ‘friend’ right now.”

As she said that, she gasped. “I know what we’ll do. Just a second,” she told them as she pulled her smartphone out of her pocket. They looked curiously at the device in her hand.

“We’ll ask Auntie Google.”

She opened Google search bar on her phone and activated Google Voice Search. “Google, what are the synonyms for ‘friend’?” she spoke in a measured and clear voice.

A monotonous and robotic female voice echoed through the graveyard.

“The synonyms for ‘friend’ are companion, boon companion, bosom friend, best friend, close friend, intimate, confidante, confidant, familiar, soul mate, alter ego, second self, shadow, playmate, playfellow, classmate, schoolmate, workmate, ally, comrade, associate; sister, brother; informal pal, bosom pal, buddy, bosom buddy, chum, spar, sidekick, cully, crony, main man; informal bezzie, mate, oppo, china, mucker, butty, bruvver, bruv; informal marrow, marrer, marra; informal amigo, compadre, paisan, homie, bro; informal homeboy, homegirl; informal gabba; informal offsider; archaic compeer; rare fidus Achates.”

The entire time Aya wore a blank stare, while Barty and Voldemort just stared at the device in Aya’s hand. When it ended, Aya looked at the displayed text, mutely pursed her lips, frowned, nodded, then turned to the other two and said, “So … you’ve heard Auntie Google. Which two synonyms appeal the most to you?”

There were so many they have forgotten three quarters of the expressions. And most of them were just plain ridiculous.

“Here,” she said, moving the phone closer to them and showing them the screen with the expressions. “I don’t know why there are so many different versions with ‘bosom’ … and really? _Soul mate_ as a synonym for friend?”

“I don’t particularly like any of them,” complained Voldemort.

“Agreed,” said Aya, “let’s click on ‘companion’ and see if it has better synonyms.” This time she read them aloud and only a few. “Associate, partner, escort, consort, colleague, workmate, co-worker, compatriot, confederate, ally, friend, comrade … the rest is pretty much the same shit as with ‘friend’,” said Aya.

“Well,” began Barty tentatively, “out of all the options, I think _companion_ and _partner_ sound the best.”

She turned to Voldemort. “What do you think?”

He grimaced, but agreed.

“Great!” she exclaimed and wrote down the final version of the last line. “So … we have: Blood of the partner, readily offered, you will resurrect your companion.” She looked at them. “Any objections?”

They shook their heads.

“Excellent!” she said excitedly. “Then let’s begin the ritual.”

Barty carefully unwrapped the blanket around Voldemort and lowered him with care into the lightly bubbling cauldron.

Aya grabbed his arm. “This won’t hurt him, right?” she asked with apprehension reflected in her voice and face. “He won’t drown or anything, right?”

“Don’t worry, Miss,” said Barty with a soft smile. “He will be fine.” She nodded reluctantly, not taking her eyes from the surface of the murky potion.

Barty proceeded to say the first line of the incantation, levitated a bone from the Riddle Family grave, and dropped it into the cauldron. They watched as the potion turned a poisonous blue.

Barty took out a silver knife and proceeded to cut off his left ring finger as he said the second line. Aya winced. He handed her the knife, which she accepted, and quickly cleaned and closed the wound with his wand.

Aya now recited the modified version of the last line, pricked her index finger, and let three drops of her blood fall into the potion, which turned blinding white and it was starting to become steam.

Aya and Barty shielded their eyes from the blinding light. Then, as the light faded away, a skeletal looking hand of an adult male with pointy fingernails and covered in slime grabbed the rim of the cauldron. Soon after, the other hand joined the first one and Voldemort heaved himself up so he could lean over the edge of the cauldron, gasping, coughing and wheezing.

Slime slowly dripped away and Aya took a closer look at the man that emerged from the cauldron. He was pale, extremely so, bald, with veins visible on his scalp, and patches of snake scales covering his skin. He had no nose or rather his nose resembled that of a snake. He was thin; almost skeletal … She would have to get some meat on him.

Voldemort’s hoarse voice brought her out of her musings. “Health me geth auf of ear,” he slurred and reached an arm towards them. They immediately helped him, each offering a hand for Voldemort to grab onto and pulled him out of the cauldron.

His legs were so weak he collapsed like a ragdoll between them as soon as they let him go and his feet touched the ground. Barty quickly draped the blanket from before over his shoulders.

“Are you alright, my Lord?” questioned Barty, concerned.

“I’m fine, Buffy,” said Voldemort.

“Clearly, you’re not,” interjected Aya, slightly amused, “if your legs are like that of a new-born lamb and you’re speaking in half-gibberish.”

“Who are you hauling a new-horn ram?” retorted Voldemort, still slurring some words. “I’m no ram; I’m the Duck Loaf Volleymore.”

She laughed openly at that. Barty’s lips were twitching too.

“Come here, my dear Duck Loaf,” she said lovingly, as she put his left arm over her shoulder, while Barty did the same with his right, “let’s get you into a nice, hot bath to get the slime off you. You’ll see how by the time you get out; you will get used to your adult body and have more control over your muscle movement.”

He wanted to nod, but instead his head just lolled back, and they quickly manoeuvred it forward again, before his neck snapped.

“I’ll get the bath ready when we get to the manor,” said Barty.

“Great,” she sighed, “maybe getting him Strengthening and Replenishing Potions would be nice as well.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” nodded Barty.

They half–supported, half–dragged him towards the Riddle Manor.

“Say,” she cleared her throat, “if you are not Ludo Bagman … where is the real one?” she wondered. “Don’t tell me you killed him.”

Barty chuckled. “We didn’t kill him, but we are keeping him in a magically induced sleep until we don’t need him anymore,” he told her. “After this tournament is over, we’ll wake him up and modify his memory so he’ll think he’s been doing his job all this time.”

When Barty mentioned the tournament, Aya gasped loudly.

“What’s wrong?”

“The tournament,” whispered Aya.

“What about it?”

“I was supposed to return by now, the other champions probably also reached the centre of the maze; they’ll notice something is not right.”

“No one will notice anything,” said Barty with total calm.

“What do you mean?”

“No one will notice anything, because right now they are frozen in time under a time dome you activated when you touched the cup before it transported you here, and they’ll remain frozen for at least another 22 hours or until the 24 hours since you touched the cup run out,” explained Barty. “That’s also when the cup will become an active portkey again and it will transfer you back to Hogwarts.”

“What about when they see that the date is June 25th and not June 24th?”

“When the time dome collapses, it will disintegrate into a powerful memory modification charm that will trickle down like snow on everyone at Hogwarts, making them believe the last task of the tournament was always meant to take place on June 25th.”

She looked concerned and before she could voice her doubts on the matter, Barty hurried to reassure her.

“Not to worry,” he said, smiling, “the memory modification spell shouldn’t have any adverse side-reaction on the affected people.”

She nodded, much more relaxed at the reassurance. “And the general public?”

“The reporters caught in the dome will report having misprinted the date for the final task once the articles get printed and distributed to the general public.”

“That’s brilliant,” she said, impressed. “That means I’ll spend the night at the manor?”

“There’s a room prepared for you at the manor, yes,” smiled Barty. “My Lord thought of everything. It was his idea actually. I simply executed it.”

She smiled at Voldemort, whose head was hanging forward.

“He wanted to converse with you after his resurrection,” he looked at his Master and sighed. “If he even manages to control his body enough to speak without slurring and butchering words that is.”

“He’ll get a hang of it,” she assured him, smiling, “I’m sure of it.”

“I hen sill ear you, you know?” interjected Voldemort, begrudgingly, trying to make it sound threatening, but failing miserably. “I’m nosh unhaunches; hush slyly inehosed as the mammoth.”

Aya laughed heartily and Barty was fighting off his own laughter.

“Don rough,” said Voldemort in a gruff voice. “Is nosh honey.”

With the arm supporting his waist, she cupped his left side of the head and pressed it against her right cheek. “I know it’s no laughing matter, but it’s so funny I can’t help it.”

A light breeze blew from the right in the middle of her laughter, and Aya caught a whiff of … rain and freshly baked bread?

She glanced at Voldemort, who was still covered in slime. She discreetly inhaled his scent, just to make sure she was not imagining things.

The smell of sun, or at least how the skin smelled after sunbathing, joined the smells of rain and freshly baked bread … and all these delicious and inviting smells were coming from Voldemort.

Dazed, she got lost in his scent and, suddenly, her skin heated up, while a tingling sensation appeared in her lower abdomen. She felt the urge to lean into him, to close her thighs and rub them together, before opening them wide for Voldemort to nestle between them with his hard and throbbing erection.

She blinked and shook her head to chase the image of a naked Voldemort on top of her, covering her with his body, from her mind.

What was she thinking? Why was she even producing those images in the first place? Was she attracted to Voldemort? No, no, no. This was not happening. She was only fifteen; she didn’t have any plans to have sex for another decade! … Or at least until she graduated Hogwarts.

Another wave of that divine smell assaulted her nostrils, making her pussy tingle.

She wanted to moan. She wanted to _do_ things to Voldemort and she wanted him to _do_ things to her too. Her resolve to wait until she married a Demon Lord was crumbling away.

A thought passed through her hazy mind. What if Voldemort _was_ her Demon Lord? He didn’t have horns or well-defined muscles and his skin wasn’t red, but he still looked terrifying and absolutely breath-taking with his red snake-like eyes, his slit nose, his bald veiny head and the snake scales peppered here and there on his body were a nice touch as well. They made him look attractive and desirable as fuck.

‘Stop it, Aya,’ she admonished herself. ‘This is not the time nor the place for this. Voldemort barely got his body back and is not even functioning properly yet, and you’re already thinking how you want to jump his bones.’

By the time they arrived at the manor, she managed to push her erotic thoughts at the back of her mind, and focus on helping Voldemort bathe and recover some control over his limbs. Her tingly and progressively wet pussy can wait.

…

They immediately went to the master bedroom on the first floor where the bathroom was adjacent to the room.

As they reached the tub, Barty took out his wand, cast _Aguamenti_ to fill it with water, and quickly warmed it as well. Once it was slightly above the body temperature, they removed the blanket and sat him on the edge. With Barty holding Voldemort’s torso and Aya holding his feet, they heaved him and carefully lowered him into the water.

“I’ll get the Replenishing and Strengthening Potions,” said Barty with his hands at the hips, slightly out of breath, “and dinner.”

Aya quickly moved towards Voldemort’s head, just to make sure he didn’t slide into the tub accidentally. “Okay,” agreed Aya, who was also out of breath. Climbing a hill and a set of stairs with a fully-grown man hanging from your shoulder wasn’t a walk in the park. “I’ll stay here and help him bathe.”

Barty left and Aya rolled up her sleeves, took the soap bar and a sponge and proceeded to wash Voldemort’s arms.

He became restless. “I hen wash my elf,” he murmured, trying to wriggle out of her reach.

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?” She narrowed her eyes. “Okay, here are the sponge and the soap,” she held them up to him.

He managed to lift his arms, but when he wanted to grab the soap, instead of grabbing it, he knocked it out of Aya’s hand, straight into the tub. Aya simply smiled, searched for the soap bar and then placed it directly onto his palm and closed his fingers around it.

His movements were awkward and jerky, but he managed to soap and scrub his stomach and chest. Then, his hand jerked. He squeezed too hard and the slippery soap went flying across the bathroom.

Aya covered her head and ducked, before she giggled and went to fetch it.

“You dropped this,” she told him with a smile and returned the soap bar to his hand, earning an extremely grumpy look from her _Duck Loaf_.

He started washing his arms, when he probably realised he couldn’t soap and scrub the same arm without switching the soap and the sponge. Aya realised his dilemma too and gently offered her help.

Begrudgingly, he accepted her help and she happily took the sponge and the soap from his hands to carefully soap and scrub his limbs.

“You don half to do ‘is,” he murmured after she switched to the other arm.

She looked up at him only to see him stare intently at her, something hungry and intense burning in his gaze. The heat from before washed over her again and the tingling in her pussy returned with more force than before.

“I know,” she whispered, focussing on his arm, “but I want to.” She peeked at him from under her lashes. He was watching her with a confused expression.

“Why?” he said in a rugged voice.

She returned her attention to the limb and shrugged. “I don’t know,” she added, “I just do.”

They fell into silence and didn’t speak until Aya began washing his legs.

“I’ve been wondering,” said Aya tentatively.

He hummed, opening his eyes.

“If you had problems operating your limbs in that rudimentary body from before the ritual … how were you able to write letters to me?”

“I didn’t,” he said.

Aya furrowed her brow. “Then who was writing them if it wasn’t you?”

“Buffy.”

“Barty?” she repeated incredulously. “So I’ve been exchanging letters with Barty and not you?”

She felt a pang in her chest at the thought of the person behind those flattering letters being someone other than Voldemort, and it bled through her voice, because it cracked a bit at the end.

“ _No_ ,” he said vehemently, letting out a frustrated sigh. “He only roe ham, I ‘old him wahoo wry. You were hawking whiff _me_.”

Just then, the door to the bathroom opened and Barty entered with his back towards them, carrying a tray with the dinner and potions. He almost slipped on the soap trail, but managed to balance himself. She quickly wiped her hands and hurried to take the tray from his hands.

“I brought dinner for both of you,” explained Barty as he handed over the tray to her, “and the Replenishing and Strengthening Potions for my Lord.”

“Thank you, Barty,” said Aya with a smile, looking at two full course meals, two glasses of water, two apples, and the potion bottles. “Does it matter if he takes the potions before, while or after the meal?”

“No, it doesn’t matter,” said Barty with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked at Voldemort and Aya. “How are things going?”

Aya glanced back at Voldemort, slightly stumped as to how to answer that question. She went with, “Slightly better, but with the potions and some food, it will be even better.” Voldemort frowned.

“Okay, so … I’ll be going,” said Barty awkwardly, pointing with both index fingers towards the bathroom door behind him. “Uh … don’t hesitate to call me or my house elf Winky, if … uh … you need anything.”

Aya chuckled. “Of course.”

He slowly started moving backwards toward the door, and as he turned, he slipped and fell on the soap trail from before with a yelp.

The thud that came from Barty’s fall made both Aya and Voldemort wince.

“Shit, Barty, are you alright?” asked Aya, setting down the tray, ready to help the guy get to his feet.

“Yeah,” he gasped, “I’m alright.” He picked himself up and shook himself. “What happened here?” he finally asked, looking at the soap trail. “Why is the floor so slippery?”

Aya snorted, trying to supress her laughter. “Well … we had a slight accident with the soap,” she explained with an amused smile, glancing at Voldemort, who was glaring daggers at her, sending a silent threat to keep her mouth shut about the soap incident. “Nothing to worry about,” she turned to Barty again with a beaming smile. “Just be careful on your way out of here.”

“A bit too late for that,” complained Barty with a wince and a hiss, as he rubbed the parts that hurt the most.

With that, he left them alone in the bathroom again and Aya turned to the tray full of goodness.

She moan-sighed at the smell of food, completely oblivious to how that sound caught Voldemort’s attention. “This smells and looks amazing,” she said, still looking at the food, while Voldemort was intently looking at her.

Now that she was standing straight, he could appreciate the curve of her backside, her back and her breasts, but the loose shirt she was wearing made them look small, almost inexistent.

He blinked and shook his head. Why was he even looking at her like that? She was a youth of fifteen and he was almost seventy. With his age, he could be her grandfather for Salazar’s sake!

But dammit, her smell! The few whiffs he could sneakily inhale while she was busy washing his arms sent pleasant tingles all over his skin and he felt light-headed, intoxicated, aroused. He was tempted to stretch out his arm, catch her braid between his fingers, and press it to his nose to see if she really smelled like spring and summer.

Luckily, his limbs were still difficult to operate and control, so at least that predicament prevented him from doing something idiotic.

She turned to him and he quickly lifted his gaze to her face. He didn’t want to be caught staring at her body.

“What do you want to consume first?” she asked him. “Food or potions?”

‘You,’ provided his mind. Instead, he shrugged and said, “I don’t hare.”

“Then I suggest food first, before the potions make everything taste bad,” concluded Aya, lifting the plate with chicken soup and a spoon. She sat on the tub edge and started spoon-feeding Voldemort. He wasn’t particularly happy with being treated like a child, especially by Aya, but he swallowed his pride and let her feed him.

After he finished his soup, she ate a few spoonfuls from her own, before moving to the main course. “Do you think you can eat more solid food without food accidentally falling out of your mouth mid-chew?” she teased him.

“I’ll fry,” he said.

There were some mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables and a piece of cooked chicken breast. He took small bites, which he then chewed slowly and carefully with closed mouth. As he chewed, Aya sneaked a few more spoonfuls of her soup, while balancing Voldemort’s meal on her thighs.

Halfway through the plate, Voldemort had enough. Not one to waste food, Aya finished his plate with the same fork she used to feed him. Before she moved onto her main course, she gave Voldemort his potions, first the Replenishing one, then waited a few minutes before administering the Strengthening one.

While potions slowly took effect, Aya was finishing her dinner under Voldemort’s watchful eye. He was staring intensely at her mouth, watching her lips close on the fork (his muddled brain provided another, far more erotic image whenever she did that) and chew her food (again, instead of food he imagined her tasting and swallowing something else entirely).

“What?” she ventured to ask him, with a puffed cheek like a squirrel or hamster.

“How can you eat so much?” His speech had greatly improved.

“An hour or so ago, I finished the last task of the tournament and it’s been at least six or seven hours since I ate lunch, so excuse me if I am hungry as fuck.”

He narrowed his eyes, intrigued. “Ah, yes, the maze. How come you managed to finish it in such a short amount of time?”

“By cheating the system,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

If Voldemort had eyebrows, they would have risen in surprise. “Really?”

“Aha,” she mumbled with her mouth full.

“Just how exactly did you cheat the system?”

She quickly chewed and swallowed her bite. “Well, after the entrance to the maze closed, I climbed the hedge, took out my handy dandy special blanket,” as she said that, she pulled her shirt up to her bra, only for her midsection to be completely missing, “covered myself with it and navigated the maze with a bird’s eye view,” she concluded, letting go of her shirt. “It was infinitely faster doing it that way, and much safer as well.”

Voldemort was still staring at her midsection.

She noticed his look and laughed. “Don’t worry. My stomach and other internal organs are completely intact.” She set down her half-finished plate on the tray, then stood up and unravelled the blanket. With her shirt lifted to her bra again, she said, “Tada!” as her abdomen came into view.

“It’s a blanket that makes me invisible to others,” explained Aya excitedly, but Voldemort was more focussed on her exposed hipbone from the still slightly raised shirt than the fascinating blanket.

“It’s a perfect thing when I want to disappear and read in peace,” she narrated, completely oblivious to the desire burning in Voldemort’s eyes. “But perfect for scaring someone as well. Like, you could be a headless corpse,” she wrapped her blanket around her head so that it looked like the body had its head severed, “or a floating head,” she covered her entire body except for her head, “and scare the living shit out of people.”

She folded it. “I still don’t know who sent it to me in my first year, but it’s a useful thing to have from time to time,” she concluded with a smile.

“Okay,” she said with finality, “let’s see how your body is recovering.” She knelt beside the tub. “Lift your left arm,” she instructed him and he obeyed. “Okay, now try holding it in the horizontal position for a few seconds.” He did. Aya nodded, satisfied. “Excellent. Now try forming a fist a few times.” He did as told. “Now try bending and stretching your arm at the elbow a few times … Now do the same with your other arm,” she encouraged him.

After she was satisfied with his progress with the arms, they moved onto legs, where she had him bend his legs at the knee and lift it.

“I think a massage for better blood circulation will help as well.”

Voldemort gulped. He observed as she started to massage his feet and let out a sigh of pleasure as she slowly worked out any knots out of his muscles. As she worked her way up his legs, however, he became much more focussed on how her slender and feminine fingers felt on his skin. By the time she reached his thighs, his hands formed into fists, his head lolled back, his eyes fell shut, and his cock was more than half-hard.

He wanted her to take him into her hand and pleasure him so that this torture could finally end with his cock spent and satiated and Aya covered in his sperm. His breathing became laboured and his body tensed like a bowstring as he fought with himself.

To his horror, Aya noticed his tension. “Why are you so tense?” she wondered. “Do you not want me to massage you?” her fingers stopped kneading and Voldemort didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or frustration.

“No,” he choked out, then changed his mind and said, “Yes.”

Aya looked confused.

He settled for, “I mean I don’t not want you to massage me.”

“So you _do_ want me to massage you?” she paraphrased to see if she understood him correctly.

“Yes,” he gritted out, already cursing himself internally for it, but dammit, it just felt _so_ good, and he had never felt this good in his life. Not that he had anything to compare it with, since he never bothered exploring that part of humanity.

“Then why are you all tense?” she insisted. “The massage is supposed to relax and invigorate you, not make you stiff as a board.”

If only she knew just how stiff his cock was because of her massage. Luckily, the bath water was deep and murky enough so that no part of his excited dick was visible.

She returned to massaging him, but now she was massaging his hands and slowly working her way up his forearms and upper arms. He sighed, whether in disappointment or relief, he didn’t know nor was he particularly inclined to know either.

Now that her fingers were not in his cock’s vicinity, he could slowly calm himself down and his raging desire to pull Aya into the bath with him and devour her lips, tear off her clothes and ravage her pussy with his cock.

After he felt calm enough, and Aya moved to his left arm, he finally opened his eyes again and his eyes fell directly onto Aya’s breasts.

He swallowed hard as he looked at the loose neckline of Aya’s shirt as she leaned over the tub, observing the soft start of her breasts and the valley between them. He bit his lower lip to prevent a moan escaping his lips.

Was she doing this on purpose? Was she purposefully making him aroused? Was she seducing him with her carefree and innocent demeanour?

He forced himself to look away, at her neck. It looked so soft and slender and tempting, he wanted to run the back of his fingers up and down, just to see what kind of reaction he would get out of her. Would she stiffen under his fingers? Would she move away horrified at being touched by someone like him? Would she shiver in delight? Would she lean into his touch, with her eyes fluttering shut, seeking more of it? Would she moan under his caresses and beg him for more?

Images of a very flushed Aya appeared in his mind, completely naked, lying in a bed with satin sheets; her legs spread wide open for him, her untouched pussy fully on display, inviting him to touch her.

He imagined himself running the back of his fingers over her folds, eliciting small gasps and violent shivers of pleasure. If he had to suffer through this arousal, then it was only fair for her to be in the same state and intensity of arousal as he was.

His painfully hard cock didn’t appreciate the kind of images his mind was supplying, so before he exploded from repressed sexual desires, he tried to turn his attention elsewhere.

A golden chain caught his eye. “Are those my horcruxes?” he whispered in a deep voice.

Aya turned to him, then looked down the front of her shirt, straight between her breasts. “Oh yeah,” she said matter-of-factly, “I always wear Marvolo and Gaunt around my neck,” she added with a smile, hooking her thumb around the chain and pulling the pendant and the ring from under her shirt.

He lifted his right arm and caught the two between his fingers, running the pads along their surfaces. The metal was warm due to Aya’s body heat. He recalled Aya’s photo from the Yule Ball.

“Not always,” he said, gazing into her eyes. Oh, how easy it would be to yank her forward and catch her lips with his. She looked at him with a confused frown. “You didn’t wear the locket and the ring to the Yule Ball. Instead you wore another necklace.” He was tempted to ask who gave it to her. If it were either Sirius or Severus then that was okay, because they were her parents, adoptive parents, but parents nonetheless. However, if the necklace were a gift from someone else … a male perhaps … then he would have to make sure to punish him for his audacity.

He didn’t know why the mere idea of other men showering her with that kind of attention bothered him so much, but just imagining her with another male was enough to make his blood boil.

“It’s true that I wore a Pervert Prevention Charm Necklace that the Weasley twins gave me for my birthday in conjunction with the Soulmate Perfume, also gifted to me by the twins, to keep rabid males away from me,” she explained. “But I did wear all the horcruxes I currently have in my possession you just don’t see them in the picture.”

He relaxed slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Since I wore a high-neck dress I could hide Marvolo and Gaunt under the dress and because the skirt was long, I could tie Tom to my inner right thigh. Moriarty is inside me so the only horcrux on display was Ramses.”

“And why did you decide to wear that charm necklace?” insisted Voldemort, still bothered by that fact. Though hearing she tied his horcrux diary to her smooth and supple inner thigh and that the locket and ring were always tucked snuggly between her breasts receiving her body warmth wasn’t making him feel any better.

She grimaced. “Apparently, the way I beat up some bitches from my school suddenly made me extremely popular among the male student populace … and since I’m not interested in any of them, well I wanted to be on the safe side and took necessary precautions.”

He almost growled, when he recalled the memories Draco Malfoy supplied for him. Oh, he was definitely aroused remembering the way Aya was dishing out slaps as if they were candy to those Gryffindor girls, and the pure black energy she exhibited while strangling them in that deserted corridor. However, he was … _extremely_ bothered when he remembered those three males approaching Aya in the Great Hall inviting her to the Ball, or seeing her dance with George Weasley and other male friends … but at least they were apparently just that … friends and nothing more.

Why didn’t she simply make herself ill as she planned in the first place?

“So, yeah, I always wear them,” she assured him vehemently. “They protect me from spells.” Her expression acquired a pensive look. “You know what I’ve been wondering?”

He continued to gaze into her emerald eyes. “What,” he prompted gently.

“If the horcruxes manifested, would you be able to see them?” she said. “After all, they are parts of you … well they _were_ parts of you or at least parts of previous versions of you.” When her explanation became too convoluted, she simply sighed and said, “You know what I’m trying to say.”

He chuckled. “I do.” As he said that, Marvolo and Gaunt manifested on either side of her.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” said Marvolo, floating in a sitting position with his knees crossed, on her right.

Voldemort looked at him.

“Well he’s already looking at me, so he must see and hear me just fine.”

“Hello,” said Gaunt with a wave of his hand in an arch. Voldemort looked at him now.

“Hello,” he returned, letting go of the receptacles, “Marvolo,” he nodded to his left, “Gaunt,” he nodded to his right. “How have you been?”

“Ever since we came into Aya’s hands, never better,” answered Gaunt.

“I think that Tom, Ramses and Moriarty would agree if they were here as well,” added Marvolo.

“Well, technically, Moriarty _is_ here,” said Gaunt. “He’s inside Aya. He just doesn’t manifest at all. He likes Aya’s mental landscape too much for something like that.”

“You’re right,” agreed Marvolo. “Which reminds me …” he turned to Aya. “We’re not going to soak in chocolate Jacuzzis tonight, am I right?”

“I’m afraid not,” told him Aya, chuckling.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “I was looking forward to beheading chocolate bunnies and eating their brains tonight.”

“Well, I wanted to try the Fire Noodles,” said Gaunt. “I wanted to see just how spicy they are.”

“Well they sound hardcore to me,” commented Marvolo. “I mean, what can you expect from something called ‘Fire Noodles’? Just don’t pass out and make sure to drink lots of milk.”

While Marvolo and Gaunt talked, Aya went behind Voldemort to wash and massage his back, before finally moving to his head.

“Do you frequently spend time in … Aya’s mental landscape?” inquired Voldemort, with conflicting feelings on the matter.

“Ever since we confirmed Aya was a horcrux like us, I think almost every night,” said Marvolo.

Voldemort rose his inexistent eyebrows in surprise. “And when and how exactly did you discover Aya had a piece of my soul inside of her?”

“Ooph,” sighed Gaunt, while he did some math, “let me think … I think it was before she started her fourth year.”

“Wasn’t it the same day we went to fetch you?” provided Marvolo.

Gaunt gasped and his eyes widened as he remembered it. “Yes! August 4th 2014, wasn’t it?”

“That explains the _when_ , but not the _how_ you discovered she was a horcrux,” said Voldemort.

“Well Tom suggested we possessed Aya,” explained Marvolo with a blank face, but the wording made Voldemort want to snarl. To think he would be bothered to know his own horcruxes were possessing Aya on a nightly basis. He wanted to _possess_ her too, dammit! “… and once we were there, we searched for a physical manifestation of you and found him in the middle of his chocolate bath, wearing a buttercream facial mask, chilling,” Marvolo concluded his narration.

“That was a shock,” said Gaunt. “I would have never imagined seeing an older version of myself like that.”

Aya chuckled. “I was shocked as well, not that I really had any expectations, because you were much older when he was created,” she said to Voldemort, “but as long as he was happy and content, I suppose that’s what mattered the most.”

Voldemort turned his head slightly towards her.

“I never asked you how you felt about being one of my horcruxes,” he said quietly.

“Probably not as bothered or disturbed as someone else in my shoes would have been,” retorted Aya thoughtfully as she kneaded his shoulders. “In fact, I feel kind of honoured to be able to guard a piece of your soul and, with how many horcruxes I have managed to gather _unintentionally_ , I suppose I see myself as the guardian of your soul in a way.”

He snorted in amusement. “My guardian,” he said with the corner of his lips lifted in a smile. “To think you would protect me instead of try to defeat me … oh the irony.”

“Like she said to Dumbledore one time,” interjected Marvolo, “just because a prophecy says she can defeat you, it doesn’t mean she will actually do it.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Gaunt as he recalled that particular incident inside Dumbledore’s office. “My favourite part was when she told him she would step aside and let you rule the world if you so desired. That she wouldn’t do a thing to stop you.”

She bent his head backwards a bit, to wash off the soap from his scalp.

“Is that right?” he asked, amused, with fire burning bright in his blood red, snake-like eyes, as he looked at her upside down head. She rolled her eyes, smiling. She scooped a bit of water and poured it over his head, shielding his eyes so the soapy water wouldn’t go in them.

“You’ll have to show me that memory. I think I want to see it.” He was tempted to perform wandless legilimency on her right then, but it felt wrong to prod without asking her first.

“We’ll see about that,” she said amused. “First, we should finish washing you, before your hands and feet end up all wrinkly.”

She proceeded to wash his face with care. He closed his eyes and let her run her fingers over his skin.

“I suppose it is ironic, especially with that whole prophecy shit,” she said. “However, as a self-proclaimed guardian of your soul, I sincerely hope I was the last horcrux you made,” she added sternly, taking Voldemort by surprise. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

“I told you the state in which we found Ramses before he recovered,” she told him, stiffly. “I don’t know what Moriarty looked like at the time of his creation and I don’t even want to imagine the state of the cup horcrux, but I do know that I don’t ever want to see you like that,” her voice cracked a bit.

He faced forward again, breaking eye contact. She held him by the chin, firmly yet gently, and turned his face to the side, pressing her face close to his.

“I mean it, Voldemort,” she said menacingly with her signature, unnerving stare. “You better have not made another horcrux or plan to do more, because the kind of immortality above immortality you’re seeking isn’t worth the damage you do to yourself.”

“I didn’t create another horcrux,” he assured her in a quiet, soft voice, placing his hand around her soft and delicate wrist.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Good,” she nodded.

“I was tempted though,” he added under his breath and earned himself a glare from Aya.

“Well I hope you won’t be tempted anymore, because you’re already immortal enough, you don’t need more safeguards,” she said coldly.

Marvolo and Gaunt exchanged awkward looks in silence. Maybe they should leave them for now.

“Well, I think Gaunt and I will be leaving you two to … uh … finish your business,” said Marvolo in a tense and forced smile.

“Yeah,” agreed Gaunt. “It was nice seeing you after all those decades, even if you look like shit right now,” he said nonchalantly to Voldemort as he tapped his shoulder.

They were about to fade away, when Marvolo said, “And … uh … if you get a chance to visit Aya’s mental landscape, I recommend watching ‘Aya vs. the Five Bitches Trilogy’ memory set while gnawing on a chocolate bunny.”

“Yes, they are extremely fun to watch and never get old,” added Gaunt, before they disappeared.

Aya and Voldemort were both quiet for a few moments, with Aya thinking ‘That was odd,’ and Voldemort saying, “Did one of my horcruxes just insult me?”

“I think he did, yes,” said Aya, before returning her attention to Voldemort’s bath, which was taking an excessive amount of time to complete.

Hopefully it wasn’t too obvious she was stalling for time to get herself and her recently awakened pussy-zilla under control, because more than once was she tempted to either kiss him or touch him in places it probably wasn’t wise to touch him, but oh did she want to touch his cock. It was morbidly disturbing just how much she wanted to touch him, just to see what he would do … and feel how long, veiny and wide his cock was.

Would he allow her to touch him like that? Would he like it or hate it? Would he get hard under the touch of her fingers? Just imagining him getting hard for her was enough to make her pussy ache to be filled and stretched with his dick.

She was so fucked (up). What was wrong with her? Not even the most morbid hentai she had read so far got her this horny and excited. And no matter how much he soaked in the tub, the scents from earlier just wouldn’t go away! He kept smelling like fresh bread, rain and sunbathed skin. She wanted to lick him just to see if he tasted like bread as well. Of course, the food Barty brought managed to drown some of the smell oozing off Voldemort, but when she was done eating; her nostrils were assaulted by the same delicious smells from before.

“Okay,” she sighed, knowing the inevitable seeing him naked part was coming up. Although she would be lying, if she said she wasn’t excited to see him in his naked frontal glory. She wouldn’t mind the back view either. Hell, she wouldn’t mind a three sixty look of Voldemort’s naked glorious self.

She grabbed a couple of towels, setting one down to act as a carpet for Voldemort to step on, while she spread the other one and tossed it around her shoulder.

“Stand up so that I can give you a final rinse and then you should be sparkling clean.”

He grabbed the edges of the tub and heaved himself up. As he did so, the water fell off him in streams. Clearing her throat and keeping her gaze on his chest, Aya took out her wand and sprayed him with a bit of Aguamenti, before she instructed him to step out of the tub.

As more water dripped from him, she couldn’t help but notice how the water drops slowly trickled down his body, tempting her to follow their path until she reached his cock.

‘Okay, Aya, where do you start drying him off?’ she said to herself. ‘Do you start at the top and move downwards, or do you start at his feet and move up?’ Although the more appropriate question would be, which one of those options was more hazardous to her pussy and sanity? And then proceed to avoid it at all cost, because otherwise she just might tackle Voldemort and kiss him and touch him and fuck him and hope he doesn’t mind.

She acted on instinct and started drying his head, which required her to step on her tiptoes, because of him being an entire head taller than she was. He let her dry him off, and as she was drying his arms and chest, she felt him caress her braid.

She froze. It was unexpected, but she let him break the braid apart and play with her curly hair. She felt him lean forward, press his nose to her hair, and take a deep breath.

Her eyes fell shut as her mouth parted slightly. Could this be happening? Was he feeling the same as her? Did he want to do it too?

“Voldemort?” she whispered, letting out a shaky breath. He murmured in return. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, lost and confused. “What I do know is that I want to keep doing this for as long as I can.”

“And what is that?” she whispered back in anticipation, swallowing a knot in her throat.

“Smell you.” He brushed his cheek against her head. “Touch you.” He buried his face into her neck. “Kiss you.” He took another long, deep breath and rested his lips on her skin.

Her chest started to rise and fall with laboured breaths and she shivered at those words. “Me too,” she breathed.

“You smell like spring and summer,” he whispered in a deep, rugged voice, sending pleasant chills down her spine, making goose bumps erupt on her skin.

“You smell _so_ good too,” she whimpered, placing her hands on his chest, gently caressing it. Her gesture made him purr and she could feel the gentle rumble of his chest under her fingers.

“It’s probably the soap,” he said absentmindedly, too caught up in her scent.

“No, I haven’t been able to smell a single trace of soap on you and you’ve been soaking in it for at least an hour,” she assured him in a breathy giggle. “No, it’s … fresh bread,” she nuzzled his chest, “rain,” she stepped on her toes to reach his neck, “sunbathed skin.”

Her hot breath collided with his cool skin and it covered him in goose bumps as well. “I’ve wanted to lick you to see if you tasted like that as well.”

He fisted his hands in her hair and brought her closer to him, while his breaths became shallow. She could hear every inhale and exhale through his nose as he desperately nuzzled her hair like a cat.

“Then why haven’t you licked me yet?”

“Because I want to do things to you,” she admitted, trembling with want, “but I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.”

“What kind of things?” he breathed. “Tell me all about those things.”

“I want to touch you, kiss you. I want to feel you on me, under me and in me. I want to make you mine. All mine.” She caressed his cheeks, her forehead resting against his lips, desperation coating her voice.

“Then do it,” he encouraged her, whispering against her forehead. “I’m yours to do with as you please.”

She let out a breathy giggle. “You are?”

“I’m all yours. Only yours.”

She moaned and nuzzled his chest. “And I’m yours, Voldemort,” she said reverently, “only yours.”

“Aya,” he snarled.

“Voldemort,” she moaned. “I want you to do things to me too.”

“Tell me what do you want me to do to you and I’ll do it.”

“I want you to touch me.”

He caressed her cheek. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Everywhere,” she moaned.

“Anything else?”

“I also want you to kiss me.”

He pressed a kiss in the corner of her mouth, while his arms snaked around her waist and his fingers slipped under her shirt to caress her lower back, making her blanket fall to the ground.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?”

“Everywhere.”

“What else do you want me to do to you?” he asked her a hair’s width away from her lips.

“Fuck me,” she breathed, closing the distance between their lips, locking them in a desperate and needy kiss.

The rush of joy and pleasure that pumped through her veins made her feel light-headed and over the moon. Instead of electricity, she felt pleasant heat pool in her stomach and her chest, and instead of butterflies, she felt bubbles slowly expanding and filling her with indescribable happiness.

As they separated for air, she thought it was a good thing Voldemort was holding her, because if he didn’t, she would have collapsed at his feet. If she thought imagining being with him took her breath away, actually kissing and touching him would probably be the death of her.

While they were recovering their breaths, his lips moved to her jaw and neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses and licks that made her heart stop.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” he managed to get out.

“In any way and manner you can,” she whimpered wantonly. “As long as it lasts all night, because I just want to feel you pumping inside me. I want you to fill me with your cock. I want you to fill me to the brim with your cum. I want you to be the father of my babies.”

He growled, ripped her shirt off with his clawed nails, before devouring her lips again. This time, he outlined her lips with the tips of his forked tongue and then slipped it inside to get a taste of her. She moaned, feeling heady and dizzy. Like she would faint from pleasure at any moment in Voldemort’s arms by how overwhelmed she felt by his smell, taste and touch.

He tore off her bra as well, making her gasp, and descended with his lips down the middle of her throat past her collarbone, until he cupped one breast with his skeletal hand, while licking and sucking the nipple on the other.

Her body twitched and her face contorted in pleasure at the warm and tingly sensation of Voldemort’s mouth on her boob. Then, he changed breasts and showered the other breast with the same kind of attention.

Now she was sure she would faint, with her legs feeling like jelly. “V-Voldemort,” she managed to gasp. He looked up from under his lashes. “My legs c-can’t carry me anymore.”

“I got you,” he whispered as he reaffirmed his grip around her back, before hooking his other arm under her knees and lifting her up bridal-style.

She hugged him around the neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and carried her towards the bedroom.

“Everything is spinning, Voldemort,” she whispered weakly, “I think I’m going to faint.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

She felt as if a bucket of ice-cold water landed on her head. “No!” she said vehemently, cupping his face to kiss his lips softly. “No, don’t stop. It’s just that …” she swallowed and wetted her lips, “I feel so overwhelmed by pleasure it feels like I’m floating … like I’m getting drunk on your scent, your taste, your touch.”

He slowly lowered her in the middle of his bed. She was still cupping his face, making him lie down next to her, half covering her with his masculine body. He took one of her hands cupping his cheek and pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand and wrist.

“I have never felt like this, Voldemort,” she told him in a soft voice, her eyes shining with both passion and tenderness. He caressed her cheek.

“Me neither,” he said, capturing her lips in a tender kiss that quickly escalated in intensity.

Before he decided to explore her breasts again as well as her lower frontal regions, he wanted to touch and kiss every inch of her back and bum.

“ _Roll over_ ,” he hissed against her lips, after undoing the button and zipper on her trousers.

She obeyed him instantly and as soon as she was on her belly, he swiped her hair to the side and latched himself onto the nape of her neck. She let out a whine of delight. He licked and kissed her neck and shoulders, then continued down her spine and sides before reaching the waist of her trousers.

He hooked his fingers around it then slowly pulled them down, together with her panties, devouring the sight of her round ass. When she was completely naked, he tossed her clothes to the side, and caressed and fondled one ass cheek with his hand, while he kissed, licked and nibbled the other, before changing sides, just as he did with her breasts.

Once he was satisfied and Aya was squirming, trying to open her legs for him, he told her to roll over on her back again.

“Bend your legs,” he ordered her in a low, guttural voice. She did as told. “Now spread them wide for me,” he said in the same tone. “I want to see your naked pussy. I want to see how wet you are for me. I want to see how eager you are to have me between your legs and inside you, fucking you into the mattress.”

She moaned and whimpered, as she eagerly spread her thighs, putting her wet and quivering pussy on display for him.

He lowered himself on his stomach between her thighs, until his face was inches away from her womanhood. He may not have seen an actual vagina this up close and in person, but he knew it was …

“ _Beautiful_ ,” he breathed, running the back of his fingers over the folds and pelvis, earning himself more aroused shivers and muffled moans. He took a whiff of her scent, and the smell made him feel intoxicated and starved for more.

He licked it in one long swipe, making Aya rise up from the bed and close her legs. Holding her thighs, he spread them apart again, and continued to lick, kiss and suck her pussy and the bud hidden at the peak.

He looked up and saw her squirming and fisting his bedsheets, her mouth slightly agape and her face contorted with pleasure. At some point, she started biting her lower lip to muffle her moans, until she covered her mouth with both hands. He latched onto her pussy with even more vigour, until she couldn’t take it anymore and tensed like a bowstring.

As she climaxed, her back arched off the bed, her mouth opened in a silent cry, her thighs pressed together against his head so hard, he thought she might break his skull, and a rush of liquid flooded his mouth. He greedily drank every drop, until nothing remained.

Satisfied and smug, he licked his lips and observed her glazed eyes with dilated pupils, and flushed cheeks, and for a moment, it looked like she had forgotten how to breathe. When she found her breath again, her body continued to tremble and her legs fell, boneless, on the mattress.

Smirking, he lifted one of her legs and kissed it. He started with her ankle, moving up the shin, her knee, until he reached her inner thigh and busied himself there, before moving to her other leg, then finally up her pelvis, her overly-sensitive stomach, where his kisses elicited squeals and laughter, as she tried to shield her belly from his mouth. Instead, he caught her wrists and pinned them down at her sides, mercilessly assaulting her stomach with loud kisses and licks, until she was laughing so hard tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Moving up her ribs, he licked and kissed her breasts, before swiping his tongue between them, up her neck and chin, until finally coming back to her lips. His body completely covered hers, his cock snuggly nestled between her thighs and rubbing against her pussy, coating it in her wetness.

She sighed, content, into the kiss, intertwining her fingers at his nape, softly caressing his head and shoulders in lazy motions.

“Voldemort,” she moaned. “Please, I want to feel you.” She bent and spread her legs again to give him better access, but he continued to tease her entrance.

“ _Sh, my queen,_ ” he whispered in parseltongue, “ _I will fill you up with so much cum your womb won’t be able to handle all of it, but let me take my time with you. I want to feel you._ ” A wicked grin lit up his face. “ _After all, we have all night for lovemaking_.”

He swiped his forked tongue along her earlobe.

“ _Grab onto my shoulders_ ,” he instructed her, “ _and wrap your legs around my waist_.”

She did as told and while she clung to him like a monkey, she placed an open-mouthed kiss on the skin in front of her and ran her tongue from shoulder to his earlobe. There, she caught it between her front teeth and gently rolled it between them.

He let out an aroused hiss, grabbed her ass and lifted her up, before kneeling on the bed and aligning his cock with her entrance.

“ _Now_ , _Aya_ ,” he hissed, out of breath, “ _I want you to open your eyes and look at me_.”

She did just that.

“ _And don’t close them, until I’m buried to the hilt in your pussy_.” Her pussy clenched in arousal. “ _I want to see your eyes as I slowly stretch and fill your pussy, until it’s completely wrapped around my long, thick cock. Is that clear?_ ”

She nodded in arousal and excitement.

Slowly, he lowered her onto his length, slowly breaching and stretching it to make it the perfect fit for his cock, but never once taking his intense red eyes off hers, which were half-closed by the time he was fully inside her warmth.

“ _Do you feel me_?” he hissed against her lips.

Unable to speak, she simply nodded.

“ _Do you like it?_ ” He prompted. “ _Do you like what you’re feeling?_ ”

“ _Yes_ ,” she hissed back, and Voldemort moaned when he heard the serpent language on Aya’s lips.

His hands moved from her ass to her hips, where he scratched her enough to draw blood, but instead of pain, she felt pleasure and her pussy clenched tightly around him, sending him over the edge, spilling hot seed inside her.

His clawed hands scratched her shoulder blades, coating his fingernails in her blood, and he bit into the dip between her shoulder and neck, leaving a bite mark, before running his tongue over the wound, making Aya throw her head back in ecstasy and her pussy milk more cum out of his cock.

Burying his face in her neck, she cradled it against her and even pressed her cheek against his temple, letting him recover from his orgasm.

“ _You don’t mind if I bite and scratch you?_ ” he asked her sheepishly, after he was coherent enough to form words, even if they were in parseltongue.

She shook her head. “ _No_.” She took one of his hands and licked off her blood from his fingernails.

“ _You don’t mind the blood and the pain?_ ” he insisted.

“ _I’m not a masochist, if that’s what you’re wondering,”_ she said, amused, _“and I’m not into bondage either … but it’s not pain when you do it_ ,” she told him, pressing a kiss to his temple and his lips, “ _and I wouldn’t mind if you tied me up once in a while.”_ She smiled at him. “ _Besides, it’s not like you are bleeding me dry. I won’t die from losing a few drops of blood, here and there_.”

He ran his forked tongue from between her breasts, up her throat and chin, until he recaptured her lips in a searing kiss, where she was finally able to map his mouth with her tongue. He leaned forward, still buried inside her, and placed her on the bed again.

Gazing into her eyes, full of happiness, he started moving. He latched himself onto her other shoulder, where he decided to leave a hickey, while he gently scratched her thighs, drawing a tiny drop of blood from each scratch wound.

She hugged him harder and her eyes hooded. His thrusts were deep and steady, slowly building another wave of pleasure inside her. As her breathing became shallow, he sped up his thrusts.

“ _Voldemort_ ,” she moaned, “ _more_ … _I want more_.”

“ _Of what?_ ” he prompted her, grazing her chin with his teeth.

“ _Of you_ ,” she brought him in for another kiss, and another and another, “ _your cum._ ”

His pumps became fast and erratic at her words, until she saw stars and fireworks behind her eyelids again and he was spilling himself inside her for a second time, filling her with more sticky warmth.

He collapsed on top of her with his full weight, gasping for air. She welcomed his weight on top of her and caressed his exposed cheek with a contented sigh.

As their breathing and hearts calmed down, Voldemort lazily explored Aya’s chest and shoulders with gentle swipes of his fingers back and forth, peppering her silky skin with kisses and hickeys.

Once he was satisfied with the amount of hickeys marking her skin, he shifted and supported himself on his forearms to remove some of the weight from her, but she panicked, thinking he would break their connection and that she would lose the feeling of fullness and contentedness.

“ _Sh, easy,_ ” he comforted her gently, rubbing her cheeks, “ _I’m not going anywhere. I will simply move us to a more comfortable position._ ”

Holding her by the nape with one hand and by the ass with the other, he rolled them over, so that she was now lying on top of him with him still buried inside her and a bit of his cum trickling down her inner thighs.

“ _There_ ,” he cooed, “ _I’m still inside you, aren’t I?_ ”

She let out another happy sigh as she snuggled into his chest and nuzzled it. Wanting to return some of the favour, she peppered his pale chest with gentle kisses, swiping her tongue out here and there, before acquiring enough boldness to leave a few hickeys over his pectorals, collarbone and neck.

She felt him twitch inside her again and heard him let out grunts and hisses of pleasure and arousal as she continued to shower him with attention. When she reached his face, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and brought her in for another deep kiss, slipping his tongue inside her cavity and playing with her tongue.

She cupped his cheek and his hands travelled slowly from her hair to her neck over her back, until they cupped and grabbed her ass. He spread his legs, bent them, dug his heels into the mattress and started thrusting into her again. This time, his pace was much more rigorous and intense, drilling into her pussy with force and speed.

She moaned and whimpered into their kiss, enjoying the roughness of Voldemort’s thrusts.

“ _Look at me_ ,” he hissed softly against her mouth, when he saw her eyelids were closing at the sheer amount of pleasure she was experiencing for the third time that night. She obeyed. “ _I want to look at your eyes as I make you cum for the third time tonight._ ”

“ _Voldemort_ ,” she whined when his already hard and fast rhythm became even faster, “ _I’m close, Voldemort, so close._ ”

“ _Cum for me then, Aya,_ ” he demanded in a whisper against her chin. “ _I want you to cum all over my cock, while I’m buried deep inside you, pumping my seed directly into your womb_.”

She whimpered, and her pussy clenched and spasmed at his dirty talk. He increased his pace even more; until she wasn’t sure she could take it anymore. “ _Fuck, Voldemort_ ,” she gasped, “ _it’s too much. I don’t think I can take all this pleasure._ ”

“ _I’ll make sure you do_ ,” he cooed with his arms around her, pressing her against him, holding her in place so no matter how much she squirmed, she wouldn’t be able to get away. “ _I plan on making you see stars many times more tonight. This is only the beginning, my sweet Aya. I still have plenty of cum for you before this night is out. So make sure you put your pussy to good use and squeeze and take every single drop I have to offer._ ”

His words and thrusts pushed her over the edge. She shivered violently and came all over him and he shoved himself all the way up her pussy and emptied another load of cum straight inside her womb. Just as he said he would.

Boneless and gasping for air, with her heart hammering in her chest and head, she collapsed on top of him, and he cradled her close to his chest, pressing a kiss to her sweaty forehead and gently caressing her scratched back.

“ _You did great_ ,” he praised her. “ _Now just make sure it doesn’t leak out too much_.”

She looked up at him and he caught her lips in a lazy kiss. After several minutes of lazy kissing, they both felt pressure in their bladders and rumbling in their stomachs.

He chuckled. “ _Come_ ,” he sat up with her still in his lap, “let’s go finish the dinner from before and do our other business as well.”

She let out an annoyed whine. “My pussy really doesn’t want to part with your cock, but I also really need to use the toilet,” she pouted.

He captured her lips and felt himself harden to a half-erection. “Well, my cock doesn’t want to part with your pussy, but if I don’t use the toilet I’ll start pumping out something else besides sperm.”

He gave her ass another squeeze, before she left his lap to stand up, moaning in disappointment at the empty feeling, but as soon as she was on her feet, she crumpled to the ground with a groan. He was immediately next to her, offering a helping hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“My hips are not functioning like they should,” she said, trying to lift herself with his help, but her body just wasn’t cooperating. She let out a hiss. “And I think some of your cum dripped out just now as well,” she informed him horrified and wide-eyed.

“As soon as we’re done eating, I’m going to fill you up again,” he reassured her with a grin.

She still couldn’t get up. “Shit,” she cursed. “It’s like my body is saying ‘that’s what your bitch ass get for doing an activity you’ve never done before three times in a row’.”

He laughed as he lifted her bridal-style and carried her to the bathroom. She buried her face into his neck. “This is so embarrassing,” she whispered with hot cheeks.

He kissed her temple, before saying, “Now you know how I felt before I drank the potions.”

She looked at him. “You don’t feel tired or sore?” she asked him as he lowered her on the toilet seat.

He combed her hair, tucking some of her locks behind her ear. “Not at all,” he said, “I feel like I have enough strength and stamina to make love to you all night.” He cupped her cheek and she leaned into his touch. “Probably because of the potions.”

After relieving herself and washing her hands, he carried her back to the bed, where she waited for him to do his toilet business and bring what was left of the dinner.

“There’s not much,” he said as he joined her in the bed. “There’s some main course left, so we can split that, water and two apples.”

She immediately went for the water, because it was hours since she drank anything. After they finished the cold half of Aya’s main dish, Voldemort took the butter knife and started cutting an apple, passing the slices to Aya. After that, she returned the favour by carving apple bunnies she sometimes saw in anime for Voldemort.

As he was finishing the last apple bunny slice, he caught Aya’s wrist and brought it to his lips, devouring the last slice, and then proceeded to lick and suck the tip of her digits, while looking intently at her face. 

Pushing the tray off the bed, it caused a bit of a ruckus as metal, glass and china fell to the floor almost all at once, but neither cared as Voldemort started to leave licks and kisses up Aya’s arm. Then, he caressed her side and licked her scratches on the hip and thigh of one side, and did the same to the other side.

From under his eyelashes, he spotted a mirror and got an idea. “Aya,” he said, “I want to try something.”

“What?” she whispered, feeling aroused again.

“I want to set up a mirror next to the bed and watch your face as I fuck you from behind.”

A shiver ran through her body. “I would love that.”

He enlarged the mirror and levitated it next to the bed. She felt tingles in her pussy at his wordless and wandless spellcasting and rubbed her thighs together.

“ _Get on all fours_ ,” he ordered and she eagerly obeyed. Her face to the mirror and locket and ring hanging around her neck, she waited for Voldemort to position himself behind her and mount her.

As he entered her slowly, with his hands on her hips, delighting in observing how her pussy devoured him inch by inch, until he was buried balls-deep inside her heat, a moan left her lips. He pulled back, until almost slipping out of her pussy and then pushed back in with the same slow motion. He repeated the action a few times, until his thrusts started to gain more speed and force, and Aya became a moaning and whimpering mess all over again.

He bent forward, making sure to lick her scratched shoulder blades and cover her with his body. He placed his hands over hers, intertwining their fingers and watched her flushed face full of pleasure with rapt attention. He nibbled on her ear for a bit, before his hands snaked to her bouncy breasts, squeezing and kneading them, softly rolling her nipples between his fingers.

Wanting to see her naked front, he placed a hand gently around her throat and her midsection, before pulling her into a kneeling position. His thrusts became rigorous and fierce, making her head loll back onto his shoulder. He turned her face towards his and sought her lips and she grabbed desperately onto the back of his head with one hand and the back of his thigh with the other.

He broke the kiss and made her look at the mirror. The hand on her midsection squeezed her breasts again and then travelled to her lower belly and the fingers splayed against her pelvis. “ _Here_ ,” he rasped in a rough grunt, “ _is where I will pump every single drop of my seed until you are carrying my child._ ”

Her hips met his, her pussy clenching around his width and length and a wanton moan on her lips. “ _You want that, don’t you?_ ” he prompted her. “ _You want to carry my children, don’t you?_ ”

“ _Yes_ ,” she hissed back. “ _I want to have your children. Yours and no one else’s._ ”

He growled his approval as they fell on their fours again and came together after a few more rough thrusts.

Still connected, he manoeuvred her on their sides, with their feet now facing the mirror. He lifted one of her legs and draped it over his hip. With her spread open, his fingers snaked down and touched her clit.

Halfway towards their fifth orgasm, he shifted them again, so he lay on his back and she lay on top of him with her back pressed against his chest. Making sure her legs were hanging over his, he dug his heels into the mattress again and spread his own, until the view of her thighs spread wide and his cock inside her pussy was reflected in the mirror.

“ _This_ ,” he snarled possessively; fingers running over her clit and her cock-filled pussy, “ _is mine_.” He thrust up. “ _No other person is allowed to touch it or see it, is that clear?_ ”

“ _Yes_ ,” she readily agreed. Because she wouldn’t even dream about letting another touch her in the way Voldemort was touching her.

“ _Only I am allowed to do this,_ ” he continued in a possessive tone, as he began the same unforgiving and vigorous pace from before. “ _Only I can do this to you_.”

“ _Only you, Voldemort_.”

She came faster than before, clamping down on him. He followed her a few moments later, his face buried in her neck, when he emptied himself for the fifth time inside her.

They remained in that position, with Voldemort lazily tracing her spread folds, smearing them with some cum that had leaked out from around his dick. He scooped some of it and started smearing her pelvis with it, then her breasts and finally her mouth, until she eagerly sucked on his sperm-covered fingers.

…

Another two rounds of sex later and with the sun starting to rise on the horizon, Aya and Voldemort finally collapsed onto the bed next to each other, sweaty, sticky, out of breath, but satiated and content.

They slipped under the covers. Voldemort embraced her and brought her close to his chest, and she snuggled closer, inhaling his scent. They fell asleep almost instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... how was it? Did you like it? I hope I did a good job at all three key elements of the chapter (comedy, sexual tension and sex itself). 
> 
> Now, you are probably confused about a tag I posted at the beginning of the story with the 'Explicit Sex Scene of Dubious Nature'. In my opinion, the only dubious thing is how they have sex out of nowhere. So, they meet for the second time and two hours or so later they have sex and prior to that they actively start having sexual thoughts about the other very shortly after Voldemort's resurrection. Neither Voldemort nor Aya are actually forcing each other into anything, so it cannot be classified as rape or even attempted rape, but you could argue that they also aren't completely in control of their actions. 
> 
> On another note: I wanted to credit this scene from Johnny English as an inspiration behind Voldemort's lack of control over his limbs right after the resurrection. Truth Serum: https://youtu.be/YVQCbqjUEK0  
> I always wondered how Voldemort didn't seem to struggle with the abrupt change in size of his body, especially since he spent more than a decade without a body at all. I figured he would have muscle problems at the very least xD


	20. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the title of the chapter says it, this chapter mainly deals with the aftermath of the previous chapter. Beware, it is a monster chapter with over 15k words, so take your time reading it :)
> 
> There will be some, what I like to call, comedic angst (there's angst, but I try to portray it in a humourous way, if that makes sense), mainly whenever Voldemort is concerned, because ... as you'll see in this chapter, that's how I see Voldemort (over)reacting over what happened between him and Aya in the previous chapter.
> 
> Also, be warned about possible spoilers for the following gaming franchises: Five Nights at Freddy's, Neverending Nightmares and Fran Bow.

When Barty woke up the next morning, he dreaded the moment he would have to knock on his master’s bedroom door. After all, his master and his … guest must be feeling extremely thirsty and hungry after their … vigorous physical activity the previous night.

He was curious to peek inside, but at the same time, he _really_ didn’t want to see the state of the room or the people inside it. Therefore, he tasked his kind and loyal house elf Winky to check if his master and Miss Aya were awake and presentable for him.

“Young Master’s master and his guest are still sleeping,” she informed him when she popped at his side again.

“Thank you, Winky,” he said, smiling, “we’ll leave them sleep until lunch.”

“Whatever you say, Young Master,” she squeaked excitedly. “Young Master?”

“Yes, Winky?”

“Should Winky tidy the room a bit before they wake up?” Dammit, now Barty really wanted to take a look inside … just a tiny look.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he peered into the room, barely sticking his head through the door crack, and was immediately assaulted by the strong smell of sweat and sperm. He had to back away to take a deep breath of fresh air from the corridor, before looking inside again.

‘Yeah,’ he thought to himself, ‘they had plenty of sex last night, alright.’

Besides some bloodstains (Wait, bloodstains? Why were there bloodstains on the sheets?) and dried up sperm on the covers and Miss Aya’s trousers and panties on the floor, the room looked … normal. Okay, the mirror was out of place and next to the bed (he really didn’t want to know what it was used for), but other than that, it looked pretty tidy to him.

“It looks tidy to me, Winky,” he told the house elf a bit confused. “It definitely needs some fresh air and bedsheets, but other than that, I don’t see anything out of place.”

“The tray and its contents are lying on the floor on the other side of the bed, Young Master,” informed him Winky. “The lady’s clothes are also all over the place and in different conditions too.”

That confused Barty. “Conditions?”

“Yes, half of the lady’s clothes are intact and half are ripped and torn,” explained the house elf.

‘What were they doing?’ went through Barty’s mind. He knew they had sex, but just what kind of sex if there were ripped clothes and bloodstains involved. He could feel a headache coming.

“Alright, Winky, tidy a bit, but make sure you do it quietly,” sighed Barty. “We don’t want to wake them just yet.”

She bobbed her head once and disappeared again.

Barty let out a sigh and massaged his temples. “I need a drink.”

…

It was past two in the afternoon, when Aya started shifting, slowly waking up. When she started rubbing her eyes and stretching, her limbs rubbed against another set of limbs. She stiffened and her eyes flew open.

Her gaze landed on a pale chest peppered with smooth snake scales and occasional hickey or two, here and there, that rose and fell. She swallowed as she remembered the events of the night before.

Though the memories were slightly hazy in her mind, her body had no problems recalling all the touches, kisses, licks, bites and scratches Voldemort and she exchanged the night before. Her pussy felt sore, her thighs were sticky, and her womb still felt _so_ full of Voldemort’s cum, she was probably going to feel their lovemaking sessions for days if not weeks to come.

Her eyes flitted to Voldemort’s face and saw him wide-awake with a tense jaw and flaring nostrils, glaring at the ceiling. He probably recalled everything from the night before as well … and he wasn’t exactly happy about it.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, am I right?” she asked tentatively.

“No,” he managed to snarl, breathing heavily through his slits. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”  He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and face buried in his hands. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

“I know we didn’t plan it … that it was … unexpected and uncontrollable, but I’m not bothered that it happened,” she said gently, trying to soothe him by stroking his shoulder. “In fact, I liked it very much.” She leaned into his ear. “ _So much so that I wouldn’t mind repeating it many times more_ ,” she added in parseltongue and Voldemort wanted to moan.

Images of all the different positions they did it in flashed before his eyes and some of the words he said to her in throws of passion and arousal. He wanted to bang his head against something. Where did all that talk come from anyway? Why did he say all those things to her?

He let out a frustrated sound and rose from the bed, showing her his back and backside. In the last two rounds, she got bold enough to leave some scratch marks on him as well.

“It doesn’t matter, whether you liked it or not,” said Voldemort, exasperated. “What matters is that neither of us was in control of our actions and words last night. “

“And what do you want me to do about it?” she asked from the bed, confused as to why he was so bothered by the fact they had sex. “It’s not like we can erase what happened,” she reasoned, “and I can’t just simply forget it either.”

“If you can’t forget it on your own, then I will gladly obliviate you,” he offered, looking at her from the corner of the eye with a sneer.

At this, her expression darkened and she pushed herself off the bed. She was at his side in a blink of an eye, grabbing him by the arm and turning him towards her. “Don’t you fucking dare mess with my head, Voldemort, do you hear me?” she snarled viciously in all her naked glory.

“If you want to forget or act like nothing happened between us, fine, act like nothing happened,” she hissed. “Maybe if you repeat that lie enough times inside your head, you will start believing it, but you will _not_ erase last night from my memory. I won’t allow it,” she said fiercely, “because no matter how it happened, I want to be able to remember it, dammit!”

There was a pop and Barty’s house elf appeared in the middle of the room with a tray full of food and drinks.

“Winky apologizes if she came at the wrong moment,” she said in a squeaky voice as soon as she noticed they were naked and in the middle of talking, “but Winky’s master thought you were hungry and thirsty.”

Aya turned to the house elf with a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, Winky,” she told her, “You’re not interrupting anything.” She took the tray from the elf’s hands and walked to the bed.

“Miss,” said the elf tentatively, “should Winky get you something for those wounds?”

Voldemort looked at Aya’s body. He took in the hickeys peppered all over her shoulders and chest. The teeth marks on a spot between her shoulder and neck. The scratches on her back, hips, belly and thighs. The dried semen on her inner thighs, belly, boobs and ass.

He really left all those marks on her, didn’t he? He should probably be horrified by the sheer amount of marks marring her skin, but instead, he felt incredibly aroused for some reason. What was wrong with him? Oh, there were many things wrong with him; this was probably just one of those things that made him fucked up beyond repair. However, he couldn’t comprehend why Aya wanted to remember being intimate with him. He was old and definitely not the epitome of good looks.

She glanced down her body as well. “No need, Winky,” she assured her, “but thank you anyway.”

The house elf left and Aya sat on the bed, next to the tray, taking a sip of water. Voldemort still hadn’t moved from where he was standing.

“Come eat, before it gets cold,” she beckoned him gently, but he simply stared intently at her.

“Why?” he asked her instead.

She looked at him,  confused. “Because it’s been hours since we last ate,” she offered.

“I know that,” he said in a frustrated tone. “What I want to know is why you would want to remember …” he swallowed hard, “having sex with me? Or keep those marks marring your body?”

She sighed, before standing up and walking up to him again. “Because it was wonderful, that’s why,” she answered with a smile and tenderness shining in her eyes. “It might have been my first time ever kissing and being with someone, but I enjoyed every single moment of it, especially because it was with you.”

He frowned. “You’re fifteen,” he protested, “a minor, and I’m over sixty.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Voldemort,” she complained. “So what if you’re over sixty? Since when does age matter to an immortal being such as yourself? If it doesn’t matter to me, why should it matter to you?”

“I could be your grandfather,” he insisted.

“But you’re not my grandfather,” she said with finality. “So it doesn’t fucking matter how old you are and just because I’m still a minor that doesn’t mean I’m below the age of consent, which, in case I need to remind you, is fourteen in the wizarding community. As for the marks, they are proof of our lovemaking and I want to treasure every single one until they fade on their own,” she concluded, smiling.

“Now, come eat,” she beckoned him again, this time taking his hands in hers and gently guiding him towards the bed, “because Winky put a lot of effort into making this and it would be bad manners if we let it go to waste.”

They sat facing one another on either side of the tray. Aya began eating her part eagerly, but Voldemort hadn’t touched his yet.

She stopped mid-bite to look at him from under her lashes.

“Are you going to eat by yourself or do I have to feed you?” she said in her no-nonsense voice.

Grumbling, he started eating his dish.

They ate in silence, but far from being comfortable or companionable, it felt tense and awkward. Voldemort only ate half of what was on his plate, before quickly locking himself up in the bathroom.

…

Once there, he leaned over the sink, breathing heavily. He looked at his reflection and, apart from his deformed, hideous face, saw his neck, shoulders and chest covered sparingly in Aya’s love bites. He traced them one by one, until stopping abruptly and cursing himself. He twisted his torso a bit to inspect the shoulders and saw scratch marks on his shoulder blades.

Before he lost himself in admiring Aya’s marks on him, he went to take a bath. As the warm water soothed his tired body, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about anything. That resulted impossible as his mind, even when he was trying not to think at all, began generating images, words and sounds from the night before.

He felt himself harden at the memory of Aya’s moans. Her kisses and touches. The feel of her pussy wrapped around his dick. He cursed, but since he probably wouldn’t be able to will his erection down and he couldn’t return to the bedroom next door sporting one, he did something he never in all his life thought he would do … pleasure himself.

He let one of his hands reach down, and wrap itself around his length. Then, after a few experimental tugs and pumps, he let his head fall back, while his other hand tightly grabbed the edge of the tub.

“ _Aya_ ,” he whispered her name, as he let the image of her naked form blossom and stay behind his eyelids. She was squirming and whimpering, while he nestled between her thighs and pushed himself inside.

He bit his lip to muffle the moan coming from his throat as he recalled how soft and warm her pussy was.

“ _My Aya_.” He continued to stroke his dick as he let Aya’s sounds of pleasure wash over his ears and the sight of his dick disappearing inside her pussy every time he thrusted into her heat inundate his mind. “ _My sweet Aya_.”

His breathing became shallow and laboured and his hand picked up speed as he neared completion and the Aya in his mind as well. Just before he came, he squeezed around his cock, imagining Aya’s pussy clenching and spasming around it, and recalled how his name sounded on her lips when she was consumed by pleasure and passion.

That image and sound alone pushed him over the edge, but what really had him cumming was the fact that _he_ was the one who made her squirm, moan and whimper like that; that _he_ was the one who made her cum over and over again; that it was _his_ name she cried as pleasure overwhelmed her and no one else’s.

Growling low deep inside his throat, he gritted his teeth and came, hard. For a few seconds, he forgot how to breathe as his groin throbbed and pulsed, spurts of cum filling the tub.

It would have been better if it were Aya’s pussy instead of his hand, but as he came down from his high, he cursed himself for letting himself be carried away by want and desire, while also cursing Aya for bewitching his mind and senses.

Yes, this predicament was all her fault. He should never have let her mess with the incantation. He was experiencing too many strong emotions. Emotions he had never felt in his life and was now experiencing them for the first time, and he was not happy about it. Not happy at all.

He would have to do something about it. He needed to get Aya out of his mind as soon as she was gone. He couldn’t let thoughts of her muddle and cloud his mind. He was a Dark Lord, for Salazar’s sake! He tortured, killed, sowed fear and caused suffering to other people. He didn’t do emotions! Especially not _this_ kind, where all he wanted to do was kiss and make love to Aya.

…

While Voldemort was panicking over his newfound emotions, Aya finished her meal and glass of water. She had yet to go to the toilet ever since she went in the middle of the night with Voldemort’s help.

She let out a sigh and searched for her phone. It had apparently fallen out of the pocket when Voldemort stripped her of the clothing and was lying somewhere on the floor.

After picking it up, she looked at the time. The clock on her phone read 15:36.

“Shit,” cursed Aya under her breath. Less than two hours before the cup became an active portkey again, and she would have to return to Hogwarts … and she was still naked, covered in dried sperm and with a massive urge to pee.

And Voldemort was still in the bathroom, doing God knew what. ‘What is taking him so long?’ she thought with a frown, pacing the room. ‘And then they say that women spend ungodly amounts of time in the bathroom.’

As soon as she finished that thought, some of the sperm trickled out of her vagina. She let out something between a hiss and a gasp.

Not sure how much longer she would be able to hold it in, she walked to the bathroom door, her hand raised, ready to knock, when the door opened and she almost collided with Voldemort.

She let out a surprised sound and placed a hand on her chest. “Finally,” she sighed, “I was just about to knock and ask you what was taking you so long.”

He tensed. “I was bathing,” he said coolly, trying to sound dismissive and nonchalant.

She squinted at him not quite believing him, but she wouldn’t push it. “If you say so,” she shrugged instead. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to pee … urgently,” she said, moving past him and closing the bathroom door behind her, so she could finally do her business.

…

While Aya bathed, Voldemort dressed in some black self-resizing robes Barty had bought for him a few days before the ritual. When he was ready, he called for him.

“You called, my Lord?” he said, peeking through the door crack.

“How much longer until the portkey reactivates?”

Barty pulled out his watch. “An hour and twenty-six minutes, my Lord,” answered Barty.

He nodded. “You will escort Aya back to the graveyard, then take care of Ludovic Bagman. Make sure everyone involved in this matter had their memories modified. Nobody must suspect anything,” he instructed to the younger man “… not even Dumbledore … _especially_ not Dumbledore,” he added with a dark and grave expression. “You will return here as soon as you’ve taken care of everything, is that clear?”

Barty straightened immediately. “Of course, my Lord,” he saluted. “Leave everything to me.”

Voldemort nodded. “Good … Be ready to leave in one hour.”

Barty bowed and excused himself. Just as he was about to close the door, he said hesitantly, “My Lord … should I tell Winky to change and clean the bedsheets?”

Voldemort stiffened at the comment. He glanced towards the crumpled bedsheets covered in smeared dried blood and seed.

“No,” he snapped, feeling agitated for some reason, “you will do no such thing.” This time he snarled.

Barty looked unsure and … extremely confused. “Then what should we do with the sheets?” he asked tentatively.

“Nothing,” he hissed impatiently at Barty. “You will leave them as they are … is that understood?”

Barty gulped. “Perfectly, my Lord,” he hurried to assure him. Why his master would keep the dirtied sheets was a mystery to him. But then again, what his master did with his belongings, didn’t really concern him.

Alone, Voldemort returned his gaze to the damned sheets. He approached the bed, sat on it and ran his fingers over them. He reached for the pillow where Aya rested her head during their lovemaking and buried his slits into it, inhaling deeply, seeking her scent.

What in Salazar’s name was he doing? Why was he doing this if he was adamant on forgetting her? He should have accepted Barty’s offer to clean the sheets, or better yet set them on fire. That way he wouldn’t be tempted to do … whatever he was doing right now.

He heard humming from the bathroom … or was it singing? He walked to the door and pressed his ear to it. He didn’t have a clue what melody she was trying to imitate, but as long as he got to hear her voice it didn’t matter to him.

She continued with the same melody for a while, until she switched to another. Again, he didn't know what she was singing, but there were mentions of the Addams Family and what kind of people they were. When she got tired of singing about them, she started singing about ... Duck Tales? 

An amused smile tugged on his lips as he listened to her emphatic singing. It wasn’t bad at all. It was actually really good and he could listen to her singing all day … He blinked and wiped the smile off his face.

‘No, no, no!’ he told himself with hands splayed against the wood and his forehead mutely banging on the door. ‘Stop thinking about her.’ Bang. ‘Stop listening to her.’ Bang.

She changed songs again. This time, she sang about someone called Sailor Moon and their feats fighting evil and winning love at different times of day, how the person doesn't back out from a fight, that she is a loyal friend and that she is someone very reliable and that protects others. From there, she changed  the song and started singing about something called Pokemon and how she wanted to be the best of the best and that she will catch all of the Pokemon ... whatever those were, and that she will travel everywhere to understand the Pokemon, because that was her destiny.

It was safe to say that Voldemort felt more than a little confused.

By the time she finished singing, he heard water splash, meaning she was getting out of the tub.

He quickly moved away from the door and went to stand by the window overseeing the hill and the local graveyard, wearing an impassive expression and looking into the distance.

He heard the door burst open shortly after and he heard her let out a loud, content sigh.

“That was refreshing,” she said happily and he peeked at her from the corner of his eyes.

She stood naked at the door, with her hair twisted in a towel and her hands on her hips.

He immediately looked away, feeling a tingling sensation in his groin. “Do you _have_ to be naked?” he hissed through his teeth.

She looked at him with a confused frown, then looked down at her naked body, and back at him again.

“What?” she prompted. “It’s not like you haven’t seen everything already last night,” she said nonchalantly.

“Well, I don’t know about my birthmarks,” she added in a thoughtful tone, “with how dark it was I doubt you managed to spot all of them, so now is your perfect opportunity to get a good look at every major one,” she said with a toothy grin.

Against his better judgement, he looked at her.

“For example, here,” she said, stepping closer to him while holding her right breast up, “I have one birthmark on the underside of my breast; another on the other breast towards the armpit.” She turned a bit to show him. “Then I have two rather close marks on my left hip near the stomach, see?” She pointed at them and he followed her with his gaze. “Then, I have a rather large one hidden between my pubic hairs, near my vagina, but I think you saw that one when you pleasured me with your mouth.”

He almost choked at the thought of how her pussy felt under his mouth and against his tongue. He could feel his dick getting hard again, his erection straining against his robes.

“Then there’s also a few of them all over my back and legs. I think the biggest one is this one over here, just above my butt,” she said, showing him her left arse cheek and just above it was the birthmark.

Voldemort’s mouth went dry yet at the same time he felt like drooling. He forced himself to look away, before he would reach for her and carry her to the bed over his shoulder like a caveman.

“I’m sure your birthmarks are very interesting,” he said in a stiff and cold tone, “however, I think you should get dressed.”

She walked to the bed where she left her phone and looked at the time. It was 16:02.

“There’s still a little over an hour before the portkey becomes active again and I can get dressed in two minutes,” she said matter-of-factly. “So I don’t see why I should rush getting dressed.”

She sat up leaning against the headboard, her phone in hand and legs crossed at the ankles.

He wanted to snarl. How could she be so sexy and delicious, yet so infuriating at the same time?

Music started to come from the device in her hand. She touched it a few times, each time producing a sound effect. He was tempted to see what she was doing, but that would mean getting closer to where she was and his erection was still raging hard inside his robes.

She started to swipe her index finger across the device and weird squelching, cutting and fizzing sound effects were coming from inside it, and Aya had all her attention on it. Every now and then, a loud explosion could be heard and Aya swiped her finger furiously. Occasionally she would gasp, cheer … and curse for losing an apple?

Less than two minutes after she started doing … whatever she was doing, she exclaimed, “No! I lost! And I was doing so well too.”

She leaned her head against the wall and let out a frustrated sound. When she looked forward again, she noticed him looking at her. “Do you want to try?” she said, turning the device towards him. “It’s a muggle phone game called _Fruit Ninja_. The goal is to cut as many fruits as you can in the air before they fall down … And you have to avoid the bombs. You are allowed to make two mistakes, the third one will get you a game over,” she explained.

He still had a constipated look on his face, but she could tell he was intrigued. She moved a bit towards the centre of the bed and patted the edge. “Come here,” she encouraged him gently with a smile.

Reluctantly, he left his position at the window and approached the bed with measured steps. Once at her side, he joined her in bed and she pressed against his side. He felt goosebumps under his robes as he stiffened at the warmth of her skin that seeped through the fabric.

He swallowed hard, but did his best to breathe as normally as possible while looking at the device with the muggle game.

“Hold it firmly with one hand,” she instructed him, and he obeyed, stiffly. “Okay, not that hard,” she said, when she saw how firmly he was squeezing the sides of her phone. “Just so that it doesn’t go flying halfway across the room when you’re swiping your finger over the screen,” she elaborated.

She touched “the screen” a few times, until she told him, “Okay, get ready. And don’t forget to swipe your finger over the fruits to cut them and avoid the bombs.”

A watermelon appeared on the screen and he swiped the pad of his finger over it. The watermelon split in half before his eyes. His eyes widened. What magic was this? Another watermelon appeared and he repeated the motion. This one too split in half. More fruits appeared. A shiny strawberry, coconut and a green apple. He cut open all of them. The first bomb appeared and he let it fall. A banana, a pear and a peach appeared. He sliced them in half. A pineapple appeared next with a bomb close by, but he managed to cut the fruit without touching the bomb.

Aya watched his awed expression and grinned. For a first-timer playing a muggle phone game, he wasn’t doing bad at all. He was nearing 50 hits and Aya felt that a pomegranate would soon make its appearance. “When you see a pomegranate, smash it with as many swipes as you can, because it accumulates hits.”

On hit 72, a pomegranate came from the right and Voldemort spammed the shit out of that pomegranate, getting to 19 hits, which were added to his total at the left top corner of the screen.

“Nice one,” she praised with a smile. He encountered some difficulty when he passed 118 hits where a bunch of fruits and bombs mixed together. He successfully avoided the bombs, but let a kiwi fall down uncut. He hissed a curse under his breath.

It surprised her just how invested he became in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t even two minutes since he started slicing the fruit, yet he was so focussed on getting all those fruits cut open. She supposed it felt satisfying and therapeutic in a way.

He lost at hit 138. “Not bad,” Aya praised him. He gave her back the phone.

“Are you sure this is _muggle technology_?” he asked intrigued.

“Aha,” she grinned.

“What kind of magic have the muggles invented?” He looked and sounded both awed and impressed as well as terrified.

“It’s not magic, Voldemort,” she chuckled. “It’s science … and technology. Although I suppose it looks and feels like magic.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Pretty impressive, ha? Maybe it would be good if you implemented some of it in your Dark Lord business,” she suggested.

“I’ll have to investigate it a bit, yes,” he agreed.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

“Do you want to play another round or do you want to try a horror game next?” asked Aya.

He shrugged. “I don’t really care.” ‘As long as it distracts me from you,’ he added in his mind.

Aya bit her lower lip and her expression turned mischievous. “Or …” she began, eyeing him like he was some delicious candy, she wanted to eat, “I could show you what kind of fucked up things I like to read, during summer holidays especially.”

Judging from her expression, it probably wasn’t a good idea to let her show him what kind of reading material she enjoyed while the school was not in session. “I think I prefer a Horror game.”

She pouted. “You don’t even know what it is,” whined Aya in protest.

“I don’t need to,” he said with a blank expression, “to know it’s not wise to look at.”

“Fine,” she said pursing her lips. “Which Horror game should we play?”

“You’re asking me?” he said with a quirked hairless eyebrow.

“Well currently, I only have three different Horror games on my phone; most of them are for either the computer or the consoles.”

“Which three?”

“ _Five Nights at Freddy’s_ , _Neverending Nightmares_ and _Fran Bow_.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me, Aya,” he reminded her.

“In the first one you work at a pizzeria as a night security guard from midnight to six in the morning for five nights, that’s why it’s called Five Nights at Freddy’s,” she explained. “You have to survive the attack of the establishment’s animatronics that are possessed by vengeful child spirits after their corpses were stuffed inside them when the serial killer in the game had killed them.”

“In the second game, you are living a nightmare within a nightmare within a nightmare, that’s why it’s called Neverending Nightmares,” she continued explaining. “It’s been a while since I played it, but I do remember it has multiple endings and that the character you play is someone who’s dealing with the death of his child, I think, and for some reason he thinks his wife is his sister throughout the game. At some point, you get chased by a giant deformed alien baby and there’s also a section inside a mental institution … fun stuff,” she concluded.

“Now in the third one, you play a young girl called Fran Bow who encountered the corpses of her parents. She tried to flee, but ended up in an asylum. At some point, you get access to the pills called Duotine that allow her to see into another plane, which is usually extremely bloody and disturbing. Anyway, you have to escape the mental institution and then find what actually happened to her parents.”

Voldemort just stared at her with an unreadable expression, studying her face.

“What?” she prompted him.

His eyes searched hers and then flitted briefly to her lips, before looking away. “Nothing,” he said dismissively. “All three games sound interesting.”

“I know they all sound interesting,” she said, “but which one do you want to play before I return to Hogwarts?” She looked at the clock on her phone. It read 16:14. “We still have approximately 45 minutes before I need to get dressed and start going down the hill towards the cemetery.”

He really didn’t care, but if he already had to choose one, he would choose … “Fran Bow, then,” he sighed.

She beamed at him. “A good choice.”

…

After starting the game, she nestled closer to him so her legs pressed against his, and she could rest her head on his shoulder. He held his breath, only half-aware of what was going on the screen for the first couple of minutes.

When the music changed from cheerful and idyllic to something that evoked dread and created tension, he finally managed to get his body under control and concentrate on the game.

It looked promising, especially when severed heads and intestines started to fall from the top of the screen and everything was covered in blood. Aya flinched a few times at a couple of jump scares and he would be lying if he said he didn’t react to some of the disturbing imagery. (That one child with his head open and brain on display really stuck with him for some reason. Or the fat kid in front of the television where, if you touched his head under the influence of the pills, it exploded into bloody pieces.)

As they navigated through the first chapter, where their goal was to escape the asylum, Aya read out the dialogue lines in different voices, then either laughed or commented on them. There were a few lines that made both of them grimace (in Aya’s case even shudder) in disgust, especially those alluding to sexual assault. All the inmates at the asylum were kids, for Salazar’s sake! He might be fucked up in many ways, but even he would never condone such atrocity, regardless of a person’s age or sex.

When it came to dialogue options, both of them chose sassy and snarky remarks, especially when speaking to an adult character (for some reason the nurses reminded him of the matrons at the orphanage where he grew up), but tried to talk as much as possible to the other kids at the asylum to gather information about escaping the institution or finding out more about the kids as well.

It felt satisfying pouring hot coffee on the security guard (as well as telling him to go kiss his own arse) who had previously demanded a kiss from their protagonist in exchange for the office key. “Disgusting bastard!” exclaimed Aya just before choosing the dialogue option that insulted him.

When they reached the reception where they had to deactivate the alarm, Aya looked up the code for the alarm on the internet. “It’s been a while since I played this so I don’t remember and we don’t have the time to use our brain meat to figure out the code,” she explained. He only shook his head in amusement.

After escaping the asylum, Aya handed him the phone to navigate the maze while she dressed and dried her hair. From his peripheral vision, he observed the entire process.

She had just finished braiding her hair when someone knocked. Probably Barty.

“Enter,” instructed Voldemort with eyes on the smartphone screen. The door opened and Barty’s voice came from the doorway.

“My Lord, it’s five o’clock,” he informed him. “In twenty minutes the portkey will reactivate.”

As the screen flashed the title of the second chapter, Voldemort lifted his eyes from the phone, looked at Barty and nodded. He got up, walked around the bed, and handed the phone to Aya with an impassive expression. She accepted it with a smile and tucked it inside her trousers.

They gazed into each other’s eyes without saying a word for what seemed like an eternity, before Aya said, “I guess this is where we say ‘until we meet again’.”

“There won’t be ‘until we meet again’,” said Voldemort coolly.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “What? Why?” she couldn’t comprehend why he wouldn’t want to meet again. “I thought-” she began, but a knot formed in her throat, cutting off her voice for a moment. “What happened to me being your queen? Our plans to change and rule the wizarding world?”

“I changed my mind,” said Voldemort stiffly, turning his back to her.

She let out a baffled sigh. “Why?” she inquired. “Because we had sex?”

“That was a mistake,” he snarled, still facing away. “A mistake that will not happen again … I think it’s best if we don’t see each other ever again.”

Aya felt a pang in her chest. “Maybe for you, because it’s certainly not best for me.” She was tempted to say more to him, but she didn’t want to push him even further away from her.

Instead, she just shook her head in disbelief.

“Let’s go, Barty,” she told him, walking towards the door. “We wouldn’t want to miss our ride to Hogwarts.”

“Of course.” Barty nodded, before following her.

She paused at the doorway, glancing at Voldemort. She wanted to tell him to take care of himself, but even those words were stuck in her throat. Resigned, she left the room with Barty closely behind her.

As soon as Voldemort heard the door close, he looked at it and let out a shaky breath. A part of him, a _big_ part of him, wanted to go after her, throw her over his shoulder, rip the clothes off her body and lock her in his bedroom, where no one would be able to take her away from him.

It took all of his will and self-control not to give into his recently awakened baser instincts and desires. ‘Let her go,’ he was saying to himself. ‘It’s for the best.’

…

Neither Barty nor Aya said a word until they reached the graveyard. As they stood and waited by the cup, she asked him, “How much longer until it becomes active again?” in a lethargic tone.

He took out his watch. “Five minutes and twenty-six seconds, Miss,” he answered.

She nodded, disheartened. A minute passed before she broke the silence again. “Barty,” she began, “I know you answer to Voldemort, but could you do me a favour?”

“Depends on the favour, Miss,” returned Barty.

“Take care of him,” she told him. “Make sure he doesn’t skip meals … that he doesn’t overwork himself … and that he goes out in the sun from time to time.”

“I can do that, Miss.”

“Good.” She nodded. “… And could you maybe send me a letter every few days telling me how he is and what he’s doing?” she added. “Without his knowledge, of course.”

Barty looked at her, gobsmacked. “You want me to spy on my master for you?”

She shrugged. “He’s been spying on me; I think it is only fair that I spy on him as well.”

Barty looked unsure. “I don’t know, Miss. I’ll have to think about it.”

“When you make a decision, you know where to send the letters.”

As the last minute was ticking down, Barty uncorked a vial and drank from it, grimaced at the taste and began changing into Ludo Bagman.

As he said, “Now,” looking and sounding like Bagman, she touched the cup and felt the pull from the afternoon before.

…

She landed on the grassy Quidditch pitch just outside the maze. There wasn’t an instant applause from the public, who was either still recovering from the memory modification charm or was too stunned to see her holding the cup after barely 20 minutes since the task started.

As her friends and parents started to cheer loudly, the rest of the audience joined them. Hufflepuff ended up being the loudest group among Hogwarts students, with Slytherin closely behind, although Ravenclaw and Gryffindor also cheered because the victory went to Hogwarts and not to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons.

Aya forced herself to smile as genuinely as possible as to not arouse suspicion in her family and friends. She lifted the cup high in the air and let out a cry of victory. Soon, her loved ones began trickling down the stands onto the pitch, hugging and congratulating her.

“What did I tell you, ha?” she said excitedly. “I told you I would win the tournament, and I did it, dammit!”

Sirius and Severus pulled her into a bear hug, kissing her head. George and Fred, rallied the rest of them into a closely-knit group, and then proceeded to throw her in the air a few times, with Aya squealing both excited and slightly terrified of landing painfully on the ground. Luckily, her friends’ arms were strong enough to hold her weight.

Bagman’s voice resounded through the pitch, drowning the cheers of the crowd. “And we have a winner, ladies and gentlemen! Miss Aya Potter-Snape-Black from Hogwarts!”

More claps and cheers followed.

“But the tournament is not over yet. There are still three champions fighting their way through the maze to reach the centre.”

Ten minutes later, Viktor transported outside the maze. He looked a bit dishevelled and sweaty, with a bit of dirt marring his face. Cedric arrived 25 minutes after Aya, dirty, sweaty and with a slightly singed and torn uniform. Fleur arrived five minutes after him in a similar state, closing the final task.

Bagman joined them on the pitch with the rest of the judges as well as the headmasters of the three schools. Polordhus erected a three-step podium. The four champions formed a line.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, before we all leave for the end-of-the-term feast back at the castle, we need to close the official part of the tournament,” he announced. “There is only one winner, normally, in these types of competitions; however, the efforts of the rest should not be overlooked. For that reason, give a round of applause to Cedric Diggory from Hogwarts and Fleur Delacour for achieving third place both with 249 points.”

Cheers resonated through the pitch, as the two mentioned champions bowed to the audience and stepped on the lowest step on the podium, with all the ministry officials and headmasters shaking hands with them and receiving a charmed floral wreath.

“In second place, with 272 points, Viktor Krum from Durmstrang.”

Durmstrang male students were the loudest by far, who, even though they didn’t win, were still proud of their champion.

Viktor stepped on the second highest step and waited to shake hands with all the officials and headmasters as well, before receiving a slightly bigger enchanted floral wreath for his efforts. He would probably give it to Hermione. She was better suited for flowers than he was.

“And now, in first place, with 318 points, Aya Potter-Snape-Black from Hogwarts. Congratulations to all the champions!”

Deafening cheering and whistling erupted again as Aya stepped on the highest step in the middle, her hands raised high in the air and her face adorned with a wide smile. She bowed. She received a floral wreath, the biggest of the other three, from Polordhus, who then shook her hand. From the Minister, she received her monetary prize of one thousand galleons. And from Bagman (Barty), she received a small version of the Triwizard Cup. She shook hands with Crouch and the headmasters.

“One final picture for the press.”

All four champions faced the cameras and smiled. Then, after a few, she invited the other three to join her on her step for one last picture, before leaving for the closing feast.

As the crowd started to leave for the castle, Barty disguised as Bagman noticed that Dumbledore looked confused and absentminded. He approached him.

“Everything alright there, Headmaster Dumbledore?” he asked with a hand on the shoulder.

Dumbledore’s confused gaze met his inquiring one.

“Maybe it’s just old age, but … what date is today?” he asked tentatively.

“June 25th 2016, sir,” replied Barty happily.

“Twenty-fifth?” exclaimed Dumbledore in surprise.

Barty nodded. Dumbledore frowned in confusion.

“Is something the matter, Headmaster?” inquired Barty.

“I don’t know why, but for some reason June 24th pops in my mind for the third task not June 25th.”

‘Did my master’s memory charm not work completely on the old coot?’ wondered Barty, concerned. “Oh, don’t worry, Headmaster,” he said happily, “twenty-four, twenty-five … they are almost the same thing, really. Since they are so close, some might get confused.”

Dumbledore continued to look lost. “Indeed … but I thought that since the other two tasks were on the twenty-fourth, that the last one would also be following that same pattern.

Barty nodded in a thoughtful manner. “Yes, I see your confusion, but I’m afraid we always planned to have the last task on the last day of the term, before the feast. It felt right to close it on the last day of school.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly with a blank stare. “You’re right,” he said after a while. “It does make sense.”

“Headmaster,” began Barty tentatively and with a hand still on his shoulder, “I don’t want to sound rude, but I think you should consider retirement. I think the stress is getting to you,” he said with fake concern, then turned and walked away, mentally sighing in relief. ‘That was close.’

…

Following the feast, the music and lyrics from _We are the Champions_ by Queen sounded throughout the Great Hall as Aya’s friends and the muggleborn or muggle-raised students sang in unison at the top of their lungs, especially the chorus. Hufflepuffs held each other’s shoulders and swayed in the song’s rhythm.

As the song ended and they were sent to their dorms, Aya and her friends decided to do a special celebration in their secret room, before retiring to bed. There, she took the opportunity to do something she meant to do from the beginning.

She cleared her throat, loudly.

“Hush, peasants,” said the twins importantly, “our Quadrawizard Queen is about to speak.”

The rest of her friends quieted down, refreshment in hand. “I want to thank you for all the support you’ve shown me on this journey,” she started, raising her glass of water, “for never doubting me, for believing in my abilities as well as my innocence when it came to the whole participation thing.”

All of them smiled.

“I did decide to go through with the competition, despite not entering it willingly, and come out on top … I suppose it’s nice to look at the trophy,” she said, twisting the cup in her hand, “maybe I’ll use it for drinking, who knows. It would be a waste to let it sit on a shelf, collecting dust.”

Her friends laughed and chuckled at that.

“Money is always nice to have,” she said, weighing her money pouch, “and I can think of a lot of things I could buy with this amount of money, especially games and other geek-related things. But I think I should think like a businesswoman and invest it into a business that, right now, doesn’t even exist, but I’m sure will become a huge success in the near future.”

She turned to the twins.

“Fred,” she said ,nodding at him, “George,” she did the same with him, “I want you to have this money and open the shop you’ve been dreaming about.”

The twins wore shocked expressions on their faces.

“Aya,” breathed Fred.

“Are you sure?” finished George.

She grinned. “I’m sure. I know just how much you wanted to enter this competition to earn the money so I said to myself ‘if you somehow ended competing, you might as well win the money for the twins’.”

She placed the pouch in their hands and they looked at it as if it was an early Christmas present. A moment later, they fell before her on their knees and pressed their foreheads to the floor.

“We don’t know how to repay you,” said Fred.

“But if you ever need anything from us, just say so,” said George.

“All of our services are completely at your disposal.”

“And totally free as well.”

She laughed good-naturedly. “I appreciate it. And you can repay me by being successful. Make sure to put my investment to good use and multiply it.”

They lifted themselves up from the floor. “Of that-” began Fred.

“Have no doubt,” concluded George with a smirk.

…

As soon as she fell asleep with the horcruxes pressed to her chest and manifested in her own mental landscape, she lay on her side in the foetal position on an empty patch of ground. She felt confused stares of Tom, Ramses and Moriarty on the back of her head.

“Aya?” ventured Tom, getting closer. “Is something wrong? Why weren’t you with us last night?”

She kept quiet.

“Well …” began Marvolo, “do you want to hear the long or the short version?”

Tom, Ramses, and Moriarty looked confused. “Start with the short one,” said Tom.

“Aya had wild, hot sex with Voldemort the Noseless Snake-hybrid all night and enjoyed it.”

Tom stumbled back in shock. He turned to her, horrified. “Aya?” he called her carefully. “Is that true?”

She didn’t answer. Why bother?

Her silence was answer enough for Tom, who looked on the verge of collapsing. Ramses and Moriarty held him upwards.

“Well that would explain all the earthquakes and fireworks that lasted for hours and hours on end,” commented Moriarty in a casual tone.

“Aya … I know you have weird tastes, but why on Earth would you consider Voldemort as a viable option to have sex with and enjoy it? What happened with marrying a Demon Lord?”

“Oh, he looked plenty demonic to me,” said Gaunt nonchalantly. “Red eyes, snake scale patches on his skin, no hair whatsoever, snake slits for a nose … yeah, plenty demonic,” he concluded.

“Unfortunately, our resident Demon Lord regrets what happened and behaved like an asshole this morning, even when it was obvious he liked it as well,” commented Marvolo.

“Ugh,” complained Gaunt, “don’t remind me. I think I will be forever scarred by all the moans and the words he said to her.”

“Did you watch it?” asked Ramses half-curious, half-disgusted.

“Of course not!” they said indignantly and simultaneously.

“It was painful enough to listen, imagine if we watched as well,” said Gaunt and both he and Marvolo shuddered.

“I felt it coming even before it happened,” said Marvolo.

Having somewhat recovered from his shock, Tom asked, “And why did he act like an asshole, if he enjoyed the sex just as much if not even more?”

“Apparently they both lost control over their bodies and minds and actually didn’t know what they were doing,” replied Marvolo.

Tom turned to her again. “You’re not going to say anything?” he prompted her.

“What do you want me to say, Tom?” she snapped, facing him. “Yes, I had sex with Voldemort and I liked it. I don’t care how it happened. I don’t care if I was conscious of my actions or not. I don’t care if he resembles a snake more than a human. In fact, I think he is the sexiest, most attractive and desirable man I have ever seen and met. I want him to be my husband and the father of my children. I want to spend every day, for the rest of my life, with him, showering him with my love.”

All five horcruxes looked stunned at her.

“L-Love!?” they choked out. Only Moriarty remained calm and quiet.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at their melodramatic reaction.

“Since when?” they wanted to know. “You never mentioned being attracted to Voldemort.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know how or when it happened, but I do know that I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone in my life.”

They were speechless, and she returned to her sulking. “I know he doesn’t like it when he’s not in control, especially after spending fourteen years without a proper and functioning body,” she mumbled, “but he didn’t have to be such an asshole about it.”

Her voice cracked a bit at the end and tears welled in her eyes. She sniffed and wiped a few stray tears away. “I know I probably shouldn’t take his words to heart and that he probably didn’t really mean them and that it was panic and fear talking … but they still hurt, dammit.”

She blinked her tears away.

The horcruxes exchanged awkward looks. The landscape clouded even more, a thunderbolt sounded and black ink started to drip onto the land and them.

Moriarty cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said, “let’s talk about something more cheerful.”

“You just don’t want any ink,” grumbled Aya under her breath, fighting back tears.

“True,” he allowed, “after all I have to spend here all the time, but there is something I wanted to show you.”

She sniffed and turned her head towards them. “What do you want to show me?”

“Come and see,” he said enigmatically.

She frowned sceptically, but pushed herself off the ground and walked up to them. He gently intertwined their hands and guided her away from the sweets into blank limits of her landscape. The rest of the horcruxes followed.

He stopped in front of a giant black door secured with metal chains and numerous padlocks. Three small, faint lights like fireflies framed the door, one light on either side and the third one above it.

They all stared at it.

“This wasn’t here before,” said Aya.

“The door appeared shortly before the earthquakes and fireworks began. Then as the fireworks faded away, these three faint lights remained.”

As Moriarty talked, Aya approached the door to examine it closely.

“I don’t know what they are supposed to be,” he continued, “but they have a pulse. A really faint one, but you can feel it if you concentrate.”

She stretched one of her hands towards one of the lights, and as she got closer, she felt it flicker with life and warmth. She started a bit, but repeated the same gesture with the light on the other side. It looked to her as if the lights were aware of her presence and were happy to feel her. She climbed the door to reach the third one and almost gave a heart attack to Voldemort’s horcruxes.

When she was back on solid ground, she turned to them. “What do you think is behind the door?”

Moriarty shrugged, while the other four complained, “How should we know?”

“Maybe help me tear down the chains so we can all see?” she suggested.

No matter how much they pulled nothing seemed to budge the padlocks or loosen the chains.

“Why not just knock,” suggested Gaunt and proceeded to bang on the door, but nothing happened … At least at first.

“Look nothing is going to budge the door,” reasoned Tom, “why don’t we return to where we came from and-”

The door began to vibrate and the chains and padlocks began to rattle. He jumped and let out a yelp of surprise. They observed the commotion for a while, bracing themselves for something, what exactly they didn’t know, but after a few seconds, it settled again.

“What the hell was that?” cursed Marvolo slightly out of breath and clutching his chest.

“You’re asking us?” said Gaunt in a similar posture.

“Look,” said Ramses, “nothing is going to happen with the door. Why waste energy unnecessarily, when we could be doing something else?”

The younger three horcruxes agreed and started to move towards the sweets again.

Just as Aya was about to follow them, she thought she heard something call out her name. She stopped and listened. A few seconds passed before she heard it again.

She approached the door and pressed her ear against it.

“Aya.” A whisper full of longing reached her and she felt a tug in her chest. “Come to me Aya,” lamented the voice. “I want you … I need you.”

She closed her eyes tightly to stop fresh tears from escaping as a knot formed in her throat. For some reason the voice sounded like...

“I’m here, Voldemort,” she whispered in a broken voice, “I’m right here.”

A sob escaped her and tears flowed freely from her eyes now. She collapsed on her knees in front of the door, sobbing uncontrollably.

Voldemort’s voice called for her one more time and she woke up abruptly, clutching her chest with laboured breaths. Her cheeks were wet.

It took her a few seconds to realise she was still at the dorm and that it was still dark outside, but she felt too restless to sleep. She tried to calm herself down, but only more tears came.

She muffled her sobs and left the bed. She hurried to the bathroom, where she locked herself and slid down to the floor, pulling the knees towards her chest, resting her elbows against the knees and the heels of her palms pressed against her closed eyes.

“Voldemort, you idiot.” A fresh batch of tears slid down her cheeks. “I want you too.” She hiccoughed three times. “I want you-” Hic! “So much.” Hic! “… I love you.”

…

As she said goodbye to her friends on the platform, Luna took Aya’s hand in hers and pushed something in it, then hugged her and whispered into her ear, “Act normal and only read it alone. Preferably in your room, although I suppose a toilet will also do the trick.”

When she returned to 12 Grimmauld Place with Severus and Sirius, she excused herself and went to the toilet. Once there, she took out the folded letter Luna gave her and read:

_Don’t feel too down because of his words. They are meant for him more than for you. Give him time to sort out the storm of emotions the ritual and you have awoken in him. It might take him a while, but he’ll come around, though I think too much waiting won’t be good neither for him nor for you, so I suggest a slight push by the end of the next month, when he will crave you enough to accept that he’s fallen irrevocably in love with you._

_Another piece of advice. From now on, try to avoid travelling by wizard means. It will be bad for you. In a few weeks’ time, it should be clear why._

_Oh and I suggest re-reading the book Hannah gave you as a birthday present in your second year. That book holds the answer to why you and he behaved the way you did on the night of June 24 th, though I feel everything began much earlier, but reached its peak during the ritual … or rather after it._

_Should you feel the need to talk, I’ll be waiting for your owl. Papa and I don’t have plans to go anywhere until after your and Neville’s birthday, so feel free to visit whenever you feel like it._

_Your friend,_

_Luna_

As Aya reached the end of the letter, she realised with dread, Luna knew about her and Voldemort, because the _‘he’_ in the letter couldn’t be anyone else but Voldemort.

She re-read the first two paragraphs. Was Voldemort really falling in love with her? Her heart fluttered at that thought and she wanted to smile, but even if he loved her, he would probably never admit it aloud. He had a reputation to uphold after all. And what did Luna mean travelling the wizard way will become bad for her?

Too exhausted to think, she returned downstairs to the dining room where she ate dinner with her parents. After the meal, she kissed them goodnight and went to bed, hugging Voldemort’s physical horcruxes to her chest.

…

_25 June 2016, Riddle Manor, 20:31_

Barty apparated on the Manor patio. As soon as he entered the front door, his house elf Winky was waiting for him with an anxious expression and wringing her thin fingers.

“Winky is sorry, Young Master,” she squeaked. Barty felt something cold and heavy settle in the pit of his stomach.

“What happened, Winky?”

“It’s your master, sir,” said Winky, “Winky left him dinner, but he didn’t even touch it. He keeps sitting in the same position, without moving at all. He looks like a statue.”

Barty hurried to the first floor, jumping stairs two at a time to get to his master’s room as quickly as possible and see what Winky was talking. His bedroom door was slightly ajar, but no sound came from inside. He carefully opened it and announced his arrival.

He found him sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and his forehead resting on the palms of his hands, looking at the floor, and his pet snake, Nagini, wrapped around him, hissing softly.

“My Lord,” he said carefully, but there was no reaction. “I did as you asked. Everyone, even Dumbledore, is convinced the task was meant to take place today and I returned Ludovic Bagman to his house.”

No response. “My Lord?”

Slowly, Voldemort looked up at him with an impassive expression and just stared blankly at him; though to Barty it felt almost as if he was looking right through him.

“Barty,” he rasped after what felt like an eternity.

“Yes, my Lord?” prompted Barty.

“I want you to obliviate me.”

Barty’s eyes widened. “What exactly should I obliviate from your memory, my Lord?” asked Barty, unsure.

“Last night,” he stated blankly, “today … everything to do with Aya.”

“My Lord,” Barty cleared his throat, “I don’t want to go against your orders and wishes … but I think such massive memory modification will not be good for you,” said Barty carefully.

“Then how do you propose I get her out of my mind?” he snarled, wild look in his eyes. “Because I have her stuck in here,” he pressed his index finger to his temple and tapped it harshly a few times, “like a disease that no matter how much I try to will it away it won’t go. And I can’t let thoughts about what happened between her and me last night cloud and muddle my mind and hinder me in my plans.”

“Well …” began Barty, thinking of an alternative to erasing his master’s memories, “what about the Pensieve, my Lord? You could pull out all the memories you want to get rid of, and put them either directly into the Pensieve or into memory phials. Then, put all of them somewhere where you won’t be tempted to look.”

When he finished explaining his suggestion, Voldemort’s eyes illuminated. “Yes,” he breathed, “you’re right, Barty … I should use my Pensieve to get her out of my mind. I’ll do it tomorrow, first thing in the morning.”

Barty smiled. “I’m glad I could help, my Lord.”

…

After forcing himself to eat a few bites of dinner, Voldemort fell into restless sleep, where he dreamt of Aya again. Her smell, her body, her kisses, her touches, her voice, her smile and laughter. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware it wasn’t real, that it was only a dream, but regardless he called out her name a few times.

Before he lost himself in the memories, he took every recollection, any physical proof of his interaction with Aya, and instructed Barty to lock it up and it didn’t matter where, as long as he didn’t know where to look for it, in case he would be tempted to do it anyway.

For the first few days, this tactic worked wonders, but before the week was even out, Voldemort felt restless, as if he was missing something _extremely_ important, but no matter how much he tried to recall it, he just couldn’t pinpoint what he longed for.

There was a name present in the back of his mind, but it was foggy and unclear. He tried distracting himself with mountains of paperwork, reviewing the laws that Dumbledore implemented during his absence, while constantly being pestered by either Barty, his house elf or Nagini to eat and drink, but no matter how much work he put himself into, there was a nagging feeling inside his head and most importantly his chest.

As he was reading the reports from his freed Death Eaters that formed his inner circle, he came across a name several times that made him feel … weird, confused, and excited.

“Aya,” he said it aloud as he traced those three letters on a report about Snape and his adoptive daughter. “Aya Potter-Snape-Black.”

An alarm went off in his mind as he had an epiphany. This was it! This was the name that kept nagging at him. That was what he had forgotten. An image of black hair and emerald-green eyes flashed in his mind as he tried to recall what she looked like.

If she was so important to him, why had he forgotten about her? He vaguely recalled using a Pensieve to store something inside. Something precious. Memories of her? Why would he get rid of the memories? Were they unpleasant?

He searched for his Pensieve, but couldn’t find it. Where was the blasted thing? He was sure it should be in the manor somewhere. He panicked. He called for Barty and asked him for his Pensieve.

Reluctantly, Barty led him to the basement, where there was a locked chest and a giant cupboard. Inside the chest, there were letters, all addressed to him and signed with the same name, Aya, as well as other things, such as a handmade card with a slightly reimagined dark mark, a hand-knitted black and green scarf, a small snow globe, a picture of a scary costume, a picture of a stunning beauty between Severus and Sirius Black, a newspaper clipping of an interview and a letter to the press, and a pillow and bedsheets covered in … dried bloodstains and … dried semen?

Inside the cupboard was his Pensieve and the shelves were lined with memories from different people but about the same person, _Aya_ … And there, a tornado of thoughts swirling in the liquid, were his thoughts inside the Pensieve itself.

He collected them string by string and inserted them into his mind again. They were slightly out of order, but the force of emotions he had gotten rid of was so overpowering, so overwhelming, he fell to his knees, gasping for air. Barty was instantly at his side, but Voldemort stubbornly continued to collect his memories and, Salazar, were there many memories to collect.

Halfway through the process, he recalled why he wanted to get rid of them in the first place, but it was better knowing why he felt so anxious and restless, than to feel lost and confused.

Indisposed and overwhelmed by the amount and force of the memories, he retired to his bedroom with Barty helping him. He ordered him to levitate the chest to his bedroom and his Pensieve and all the memories to his office. Barty agreed with a defeated sigh.

The next day, he summoned Augustus Rookwood, who had infiltrated the Ministry by impersonating the Head of the Department of Mysteries, and the Lestrange brothers, who were still posing as American transfer Aurors.

He needed to get his hands on the entire prophecy concerning him and Aya. Rodolphus would provide him with some Polyjuice base, Rabastan with some hair from a random muggle businessman and Augustus would let him inside the Department and lead him to the shelves with the prophecies.

It was the perfect plan and no one at the Ministry suspected anything. Placing the prophecy securely inside his pocket, he left the Ministry and apparated straight to his office at the manor and locked himself inside to listen and study the prophecy in solitude and peace.

Slightly apprehensive, he placed the orb on his desk, sat behind it, and listened:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark them as his equal, but they will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..._

A heavy feeling settled in his stomach as the female voice faded away and her last line remained stuck in his ear.

Was that it then? One of them would have to kill the other? No, he couldn’t imagine Aya willingly wanting or trying to kill him, and he had long since lost any desire to do it as well.

He listened to the prophecy again, and as he listened, he wrote down everything. After making sure, he had everything written down, word for word, he smashed the prophecy never to hear the eerie female voice again.

Then, he proceeded to study it line by line, word for word, trying to interpret it in different ways. In ways that would suit him the best. After all, weren’t prophecies all about interpretation?

Or better yet, he could just simply ignore it.

…

On July 4th, he assembled a meeting with his inner circle, though he had his reservations with summoning Severus … for several reasons. Knowing he was Aya’s adoptive father made him want to ask him about her well-being, how she was doing, if she was happy without him … things like that. On the other hand, the report the Lestrange brothers provided about him made him think he had fallen under the influence of Dumbledore and that his loyalty might have been swayed to the opposite side.

He wanted to interrogate him, maybe submit him to a few crucios, but he doubted Aya would appreciate it. Knowing just how she reacted when someone attacked her Mud- Muggle-born friend, told him she would subject him to a similar treatment. Therefore, no. No matter how tempted he was to either brutally sift through Snape’s head or torture him, he would refrain himself from doing anything.

His most faithful immediately responded to his call through Barty’s mark, with Severus arriving with delay.

“Ah, Severus,” he greeted him with deceiving calm from his place at the head of the long table, “it is nice to know you still respond to my call, although with a slight delay.”

He could see Severus stiffen as he bowed and approached the empty seat between Barty and Lucius on his left hand side. “I apologise, my Lord, I was … slightly occupied at the moment of your call,” he said apologetically.

“What or who could be more important than me Severus?” he prompted. “The school term has ended more than a week ago or is there something you wish to tell me?”

Severus swallowed hard and was lost for words. Voldemort took pity on him and simply told him to take a seat.

When all of his inner members were present, with a few exceptions (he would have to track them down and torture them, just before killing them off), he started the meeting.

“Welcome, my friends,” he said solemnly. “Most of us have seen each other very recently, while with some,” he said, referring to Severus, “we’re meeting for the first time in over a decade.” Severus stiffened, but remained impassive.

“Those of you who have been closely aiding me in my quest to recover my body know that it’s been a little over a week since I got it back and that we are now going to continue our work towards change … but in a slightly different way from the first time.”

“This time there will be no open attacks, no terrorism. Instead, we need to be subtle, silent … like snakes. We will infiltrate our enemies from within and slowly take over. We will study our surroundings for weaknesses; gather information and strike when our prey will least expect it. For that purpose, no one must suspect a thing. My return must remain a secret. Should Dumbledore even suspect I’m back, because one of you accidentally let it slip, I will personally take care of the traitor myself. Is that clear?”

He levelled them with his unnerving red look, but lingered on Severus, who paled.

“Yes, my Lord!” they chorused.

“Good,” he nodded, satisfied. “Moving on, we need to address another issue … Aya Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived. Although I hear she now goes by the surname Potter-Snape-Black.” He observed Severus’ reaction through his peripheral vision and saw him hold his breath.

“As you know, there is a prophecy concerning her and me. A prophecy that states she will _‘vanquish’_ me with a _‘power I know not’_ , because, according to the woman who told the prophecy, ‘ _either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives’_.” He turned to Severus.

“What do you suggest I do Severus?” he asked him. “After all, you were the one who overheard the first half of the prophecy and are now responsible for … the Girl-Who-Lived.”

Severus looked on the verge of collapsing. He cleared his throat. “I say you shouldn’t concern yourself with her being a danger to you and your rule,” he said in a measured voice.

“How do you know that?”

“She readily helped you acquire the stone, my Lord.”

“She could still turn against me and stab me in the back,” insisted Voldemort.

“She isn’t like that.”

Voldemort glared at Severus, his breathing laboured. “Would you swear on your life and magic that she will not become a threat to me and my cause, Severus?”

“Yes,” said Severus with confidence and unwavering look.

Voldemort regarded him some more, before sighing and addressing all of his followers.

“Aya Potter-Snape-Black is to be left alone,” he said darkly. “None of you is to go near her with the intent to harm or kill her, unless I instruct you to do so. The person who will disrespect my orders and go against them in a misguided attempt to please me will face my wrath.”

A black, dense energy emanated from Voldemort’s form, filling the dining room, making it difficult to breathe.

“I hope I made myself clear, because I hate repeating myself. The person who so much as touches a hair on her head or tries to curse her … I will make sure they are punished in the most gruesome way possible, and then I will display the remains for the rest to see not to go against me.”

All of them swallowed hard as the black energy kept constricting their respiratory tract.

When they nodded, the energy evaporated and all of them inhaled deeply. He concluded the meeting with a “We already have Azkaban and dementors under our control, now it’s time for other branches of wizarding society to fall as well. Wait for my orders on how to proceed with our plans to overtake the Ministry and the Wizengamot. You are free to go.”

As Severus was about to leave, he called after him. “You will remain behind, Severus.”

He noticed him tense at those words.

“No need to be so tense,” he chuckled darkly, trying to sound reassuring, but only ended up sounding threatening, “I simply want to have a word with you in private. Away from prying ears and eyes.” He gestured towards the seat. “Sit.”

Severus gulped, but otherwise obeyed.

“Tea?” he offered.

“A cup is waiting for me at home, my Lord,” Severus declined in his most diplomatic fashion. “We were just about to have some afternoon tea, when you called for me,” he explained.

“Well, then, excuse my rudeness for interrupting your family time.” Severus wasn’t sure whether the words were genuine or sarcastic. “No tea then?”

“No, thank you.”

“A pity.”

A beat of silence stretched between them.

“What did you want to talk to me about, my Lord?” inquired Severus tentatively.

Mostly, he wanted to talk about Aya, ask him about her … but instead he decided to ask him about his loyalty.

“Are you still loyal to me and my cause, Severus, or have you defected to Dumbledore’s side?” Severus stiffened, but remained silent.

“Do you remember asking me to spare that Mudblood friend of yours?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Despite not being long in my service, you proved to be reliable, competent. Your request baffled me, but I wanted to award your services and honour your request.”

Severus’ eyes widened in surprise. He stared at Voldemort.

“When I went to where the Potters were hiding with their child, I tried to spare the woman,” narrated Voldemort. “I gave her three warnings. Three opportunities to step aside so that I could kill her child. But she begged and pleaded, and kept shielding the baby. I suppose any decent mother would do that. So, after the third warning, to get to the child I had to go through the mother first.”

“You could have stunned her,” said Severus in a measured voice, but his jaw and throat were twitching.

“I could,” admitted Voldemort, “as I could have stunned the father, but then I ran the risk of them coming after me in revenge and why bother letting them live to be a nuisance, when I could be free from their annoying opposition.” There was no regret in his voice and Severus didn’t know what to make of it.

“Was she so important to you, you would defect to Dumbledore, Severus? Have you gone to him for aid?”

After a long beat of silence, Severus said, “Yes,” he looked Voldemort straight in the eye. “I went to him, asking to protect Lily.”

Voldemort remained impassive. “Why him?”

Severus shrugged. “He seemed like the best option at the time.”

“No matter what he says or how he presents himself to the world, Dumbledore is even worse than me, Severus,” said Voldemort. “For all his talk of light and dark, right and wrong, good and evil, his … _greater good_ ,” he spat, “Dumbledore is nothing but a master manipulator and puppeteer who never does anything out of the goodness of his heart … or did he offer free protection and services when you went to him, Severus?”

Severus averted his eyes and Voldemort smirked gleefully.

“I won’t punish you for going to him,” said Voldemort after a while, and earned a shocked look from the Potions Master. “However,” his look turned hard, “that being said, from now on, you continue to work for me, not him. You will not help him in the slightest. You will not report anything to him about my return or my plans. If he asks you anything, you say you never felt your mark tingling or burning. Is that clear?”

Severus gulped, but nodded.

“You will not report to him, but you will report to me. If he becomes too suspicious or starts asking too much, you will let me know immediately or as soon as you’re able.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“I mean it, Severus,” he warned him. “This is the first and only time I will let it slide. Don’t give me a reason to hurt you.”

With that, Severus left and Voldemort let out a loud sigh.

…

For the next few days, thoughts of Aya distracted Voldemort to the point where he would just stare at a page, trying to read it, but no matter how much he read, he wasn’t really sure what he just read, so he kept re-reading the same sentences or paragraphs over and over again, but no matter how many times he read them, he just didn’t understand a word of what was written.

Putting the papers down, he started pacing his office.

If he was a mess right now, it was because of Aya. If he was thinking about her … if he was craving her, it was because she messed with the potion. This entire thing was her fault! If he hadn’t allowed her to change the wording of the last line … If he had stuck with his original plan, nothing of this would have happened!

Oh, who was he kidding! Even as he read the original incantation, he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Aya … and even though he was concerned over what might happen if the original incantation was changed, he preferred the changed version, where she offered her blood willingly, to forcing it out of her anytime.

And yet, he was hurting her right now with his attitude.

He sat in his chair and gazed at the Birthday card and the Basilisk snow globe on his desk. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out her letters and the pictures he had of her. He should destroy everything. He should have set it all on fire the same day she left the manor.

But something was stopping him.

Determined not to think of her, he even went as far as getting himself drunk on fire whiskey that afternoon, even though it tasted like shit to him, and he ended waking up with a head-splitting headache the next morning. He didn’t really remember what he said to Barty, when he helped him get to bed, but he sure as hell remembered everything he said and did to Aya during sex. The same bed he was sleeping in every night.

He should have considered changing rooms, sleep somewhere, where he couldn’t be reminded of their time together, but something kept him from doing it. It was as if he wanted to remain there and torture himself with the memories of something that will probably never happen again.

Sighing in resignation, he lay on his back on the bed.

He closed his eyes and welcomed the images that assaulted his mind. Images of his night with Aya, which were hazy at first, were now becoming clearer in his mind.

He thought to himself, if he couldn’t keep her out of his mind, if he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her, he might as well let memories he had of her wash over him, and for the first time in over two weeks of trying to escape her, he indulged in his fantasy and pleasured himself, while chanting Aya’s name.

…

Luna’s letter calmed Aya down … if only a bit. She still felt anxious and somewhat depressed. However, not one to wallow in self-pity, Aya was determined to stay positive and distract herself by doing the things she liked.

She felt in the mood for _Police Academy_ and _Home Alone_ movies, and _Sherlock Holmes_ and _Super Mario_ videogames. In between watching films and playing games, she was slowly making her way through the book Luna mentioned. For now, she still hadn’t found anything that might explain how Voldemort and she ended up having sex just like that.

She was doing fine in keeping herself distracted, until July 4th.

Severus, Sirius and she were in the drawing room about to have their afternoon tea, when Severus flinched and hissed, and let go of his teacup, which shattered with a muffled crack.

Sirius and Aya were immediately concerned. “What’s wrong, Severus?” inquired Sirius. He noticed his lover was clutching his marked forearm.

“It burns,” Severus managed to say. “He’s calling.”

Sirius paled. “Will you go?”

“I have to go.”

“Go where?” asked Aya.

“To V-Voldemort,” choked out Sirius.

Her heart stopped for a second and she fought to keep her reaction under control. What does Voldemort want with her father? Will he hurt him? He better not touch a single hair on him or try to curse him. She might be in love with Voldemort, but she wouldn’t let him hurt her father.

Sirius refused to let Severus go, but released him anyway, after Severus promised to return to him in one piece and no major damage, because otherwise he just might track that bastard down and kill him with his bare hands.

Looking back now, Severus was gone less than 45 minutes, but the wait felt like an eternity had passed since he apparated away. When he returned, looking like he had before he left, just slightly dazed, Aya and Sirius heaved a sigh of relief and then proceeded to bombard him with questions about the meeting.

Aya soaked up every word that concerned Voldemort. It seemed he was in good health, had made some progress in his domination of wizarding world from the shadows, got his hands on the entire prophecy and threatened to cause severe bodily harm to anyone who would want to harm her. That part made her feel warm and excited from within and she fought back a smile that wanted to spread across her face.

She only hoped neither of her fathers noticed how happy she felt hearing about Voldemort, because she wasn’t ready to tell them about what happened on June 24th.

For the next several days, she was only half-successful in keeping herself distracted from thinking about Voldemort, but by the end of the second week, she was thinking about gaming, reading and not much else. However, stray thoughts about Voldemort popped up in her mind from time to time.

One day, mid-July, the horcruxes expressed their concern over the fact she only seemed to eat a meal a day.

“Well … with the summer heat, I don’t really feel hungry, and because I’m not studying, I also don’t feel the constant need to eat or snack on something, but it can also be the enthusiasm and adrenaline that I sometimes experience during gaming, where I would forget to eat, drink and sleep, because I’m so invested in the videogame.”

Following that discussion, she realised that not only she ate far less than usual, but some of the food and smells also made her nauseous and dizzy. Sometimes she felt dizzy at random times during the day and whenever that would happen, she decided to take a nap. She also felt more tired than usual. It was probably the heat that made her feel sleepy and tired all the time, but she somehow still felt tired even after sleeping more than 16 hours a day … and her breasts felt sensitive, sore and … was it just her or did they feel heavier and larger?

She was vaguely aware that she should have had her period already, but thought the delay was mostly due to stress and agitation, until a week before her birthday, she finally considered the possibility of pregnancy.

She did have sex with Voldemort after all. Many times and without any sort of protection. Did it happen, while she was fertile? She wasn’t sure, but it was definitely a possibility.

While she was debating whether to go buy a pregnancy test at the Chemist’s, she found what she felt was the answer Luna mentioned in her letter. It was a sub-chapter called “ _Virgin Blood & the Regeneration Ritual_” under a chapter titled “ _Virgins & Magic Rituals_”.

Determined to get rid of her doubts, she decided to go and buy a pregnancy test or two … maybe even three just to be on the safe side. She could go to a laboratory and pay for a blood test as well, but it would have to be done in secret. She could only be absent so much time at once before Severus and Sirius started suspecting something was off with her.

“Siri, Sev,” she called from the corridor, “I’m going to the supermarket to buy some pads for the period.”

“Okay, pup,” returned Sirius from inside their room.

She did buy a pack of hygienic pads, just to cover up the fact that she also bought three different home pregnancy tests.

The woman at the pharmacy eyed her with a mixture of pity and judgment as if trying to say, ‘Poor thing, so young and already facing motherhood’ and ‘The youth these days don’t think about consequences of unprotected sex’ at the same time. She didn’t need neither sentiments, thank you very much! It’s not like she was dying nor would her world be ending if she _did_ end up pregnant with Voldemort’s child at sixteen! It was far from ideal, what with Dumbledore still in positions of power and Voldemort operating from the shadows and her having two years of basic magical education remaining, but she could hire tutors or even do self-study. It’s not as if she would abandon her education just like that. However, higher education would have to wait for at least a year maybe two or more; she did want to spend as much time with her baby, if it did turn out she was pregnant.

“It’s for my sister,” she said with a straight face instead, “she asked me if I could get her a few tests, while she’s at work.”

Whether the woman behind the till believed that bullshit, she didn’t know nor did she particularly care. She was never going to see that woman in her life again, so it didn’t matter what she thought on the subject.

Back home, she hurried to her room, where she read the instructions with care.

The most awkward part of it all would be peeing inside the cup. She didn’t remember when the last time she did it was and how in the hell she even achieved it. The next important step would be to take the test in the morning as soon as she woke up to make sure her urine was concentrated enough for the pregnancy tests to sense the pregnancy hormones.

She planned to put all three tests in the cup one after another and let all those juicy hormones soak into them. She would probably get the same results in all three cases, but if the morning urine was the best for this type of testing, she could do all three pregnancy tests at the same time. No need to make it into a three-day ordeal.

…

On July 27th, at 9:38, she went to the toilet and peed into a glass (unfortunately, they didn’t have plastic or paper cups), then dipped all three pregnancy tests into the liquid for the required amount of time, capped them, lined them up, and waited for the results to show.

The first one read ‘YES +’.

The second one displayed two vertical lines.

And the third one read ‘Pregnant’.

She was pregnant.

She was pregnant with Voldemort’s child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Voldemort will come around, but, as Luna said, he needs a push. I hope that, despite his hurtful attitude, you still found his struggle to combat his feelings for Aya funny only to fail miserably at forgetting her. There will be a scene showing Voldemort's drunken state and how I picture a drunk and lovesick Voldemort would look like. Those wondering about Sirius and Severus' reaction, don't worry, I got you covered in the next chapter ;3
> 
> And I don't know about you, but I love to write Winky in this one ... she's so melodramatic about things, her wording always makes Barty assume the worst has happened xD
> 
> Also, the credit of the songs that Aya sang while bathing (Pink Panther Theme Song, The Addams Family, Duck Tales Intro Song, Sailor Moon Theme Song - English Version and Pokemon Opening Theme song 1 - English Version) belong to their respective creators and owners. They were only used for comedic effect.  
> EDIT: I know originally, there were lyrics, but I decided it would be just safer for me as an author to exclude them and just make references through Voldemort's observation, because at the end of the day, he doesn't know a single thing about pop culture, so he doesn't know the songs she's singing and where they come from, but hopefully the readers will still be able to recognise the songs from his comments.
> 
> So, next chapter is the finale of this part of the series. A few things will be answered and resolved. Any loose threads will be addressed and answered in the future sequels so ... if you're not bothered by teenage pregnancy (and pregnancy in general) and children, you're more than welcome to continue reading. :)


	21. Aya and Voldemort

For a few seconds, she just stared at the results in front of her. As she processed them, she felt both happy and slightly panicked. Her eyes started to water and she pressed her hands to her mouth to muffle her sobs.

‘I’m going to be a mother,’ she thought with a watery smile. Her hands caressed and hugged her lower abdomen. She was carrying Voldemort’s child, but … would she be a good mother? It was true that she craved to have a family of her own with a husband and children, but just wanting that didn’t mean she was suited for motherhood.

And what about Voldemort? Would he want the child? Would he feel happy about fatherhood? Would he feel afraid? Well, if having sex caused such an adverse reaction in him, knowing he would be a father was very likely going to make him panic.

She took a picture of all three tests before the results expired, even though all three had a wide window.

Next, she needed to speak with Voldemort and tell him about it as well as what the book says about their predicament. She could write him a letter or copy the text and print the picture of her pregnancy tests, but it felt too impersonal … and she also wanted to see him, hear him, touch him, smell him.

Then, there was also how she was going to communicate this news to her parents. She couldn’t just casually say, “Papa Siri, Papa Sev, I’m pregnant and the father of my baby is Voldemort,” while they ate breakfast, lunch or dinner without risking Sirius to faint from shock. She feared their reactions the most … and her friends’ reactions as well, of course. She needed to tell them about it too, but found herself at a loss as to how to go about it.

Sighing, she dried her tears and washed her face with some cold water, emptied the glass and scrubbed it well with soap to disinfect it. However, it was probably a better option simply to get rid of the glass. Who would want to drink from it anyway? Definitely not her.

She returned to her room with all three pregnancy tests and returned them to their packaging, before shoving them in the most remote place inside one of her drawers, buried under heaps of old textbooks to cover them and hide them from sight. As they said, _‘Out of sight, out of mind’_ … well … it depended on individual things, because even though she couldn’t see Voldemort every day, she couldn’t and didn’t want to keep him completely out of mind.

After hiding her pregnancy tests away, she sat at her desk and took out a piece of paper.

_Voldemort,_

_I know you probably don’t want to see me or hear from me, but there’s something you need to know. Something very, very important. Can we talk in person, please?_

_Aya_

She walked over to her owl Athena, attached the letter to her leg and instructed her to deliver the letter to Voldemort.

…

Voldemort was in his office, talking about his plan to infiltrate Hogwarts with Lucius and Barty, where the plan for the following school year would be to replace the History of Magic teacher.

Lucius would convince the other Governors that the ghost needed to be replaced by an actual human being who was not mentally stuck in the Goblin Wars and who had an interesting personality and a lively voice. No reason to make what could have been an interesting and useful school subject into a nightmare to listen and study, when students could enjoy it.

Once the Board sacked the ghost, they would publish a public post in the Daily Prophet, offering the post of History of Magic teacher at Hogwarts. Here was where Barty came into the plan. He would either polyjuice or glamour or otherwise disguise himself to apply for the post and undergo the usual selection process. No matter who else applied for the job, Lucius had strict orders to push Barty’s application forward and make sure he was hired.

From there, Barty was to teach the students to the best of his abilities and as genuinely as possible (as well as report on the general state of how effective the staff was. He needed to know who to keep and who to replace with someone significantly more competent once he took over Hogwarts). He needed to become one of the favourite teachers at school, someone akin to Remus Lupin, who for some reason stuck as the DADA professor since the second semester of Aya’s second year, despite him cursing the position. Maybe he wasn’t a normal human being. After all, he did word it, ‘ _If I can’t have the position, no man or woman will either_ ’. He would add figuring what exactly Lupin is to the list of Barty’s obligations as the History of Magic teacher.

Once Barty became a favourite among the staff and students, he would be in a position of trust and whenever people had problems or doubts, they would seek him out and he could influence them. Especially when it came to morally grey areas of history or life. He was to encourage critical and independent thinking, and form people who didn’t blindly believe everything they read or heard in the press. That way, when his time to take over as the ruler of the wizarding world came, the youth at least, which was the future of the wizarding world, would be more accepting of him as the leader and his ideas and changes to the wizarding world. After all, once he took over, many changes would happen in the workforce in all the sectors of society and for that he needed competent and ambitious youth to sustain their world, not idiots or brainless sheep, no matter how tempting it was to control them with an iron fist.

Contrary to what Dumbledore believed, he didn’t plan on becoming a dictator once he took over. At least not this time round. He was certainly not going to tolerate armed opposition, but if someone reasonably objected to some of his policies and justified their opinion, he didn’t see the need to silence that person. He was willing to listen and even consider if not downright implement the changes to his changes.

Just as they were discussing the changes that needed to occur in the History of Magic curriculum, insistent knocking on the window interrupted them.

All three looked towards the source of the tapping and saw a snowy owl. Voldemort froze. He stared at Athena. Before Barty, or worse Lucius, could let the owl in, he snapped out of his daze and opened the window himself.

The owl hooted and stuck out her leg at him. He untied the letter and opened it. It was short, but Aya managed to make him panic all over again. She wanted to _see_ him and _talk_. Apparently, there was something she needed to tell him.

Why couldn’t she just tell him in a letter? Why did it have to be in person? He wasn’t ready to see her. It probably wasn’t wise to see her, without having to fight off his urge to feel her, touch her, hug her, smell her, taste her. It was already difficult staying away from her with how much he thought about her. If he had her in front of him, he wasn’t sure he had enough self-restraint not to do something stupid.

The owl hooted again, bringing him out of his thoughts. Why was the owl still there? Was it waiting for treats? A reply? He turned to Barty.

“Give the owl some water and treats,” he said impassively, “then make sure she leaves without a reply.”

Barty nodded.

After the owl was gone, they returned to what they were discussing before they were interrupted, but Voldemort was too distracted and couldn’t follow what Barty and Lucius were saying, he didn’t even know what he wanted to say.

He dismissed them shortly after, but remained in the office, contemplating and rereading Aya’s latest letter. He was tempted to write her and ask her what she had to say to him and why she couldn’t just tell him in a letter, because he _was_ curious to know what was so important for him to know, but decided against it.

He vaguely registered Barty’s offer for tea, and accepted it absentmindedly, before his mind went back to thinking about Aya.

…

In the days leading to their trip to the same cottage as last year to celebrate Neville and Aya’s birthday, there was no reply from Voldemort. She was sure Athena delivered her note, but the coward decided to ignore her.

‘Okay, Voldemort, you want to ignore me? Fine! I don’t need your permission to visit the father of my child, dammit. We _will_ talk about this and you _will_ listen to what I have to say.’

Hopefully, a little over a month was enough time for him to stop acting as if them making love was the end of the world, because it wasn’t, and that he finally stopped being an arse about it. Did he even realise how many times they could have repeated that night if he wasn’t acting the way he was?

She was aware he didn’t have a good and happy childhood and that the circumstances of his conception were not flattering. She knew that he never had anyone to show him love, to be there for him, which made him emotionally stunted, but now _she_ was in his life. She could shower him with cuddles, hugs and kisses. She could take care of him; make sure he’s content and satisfied. They could have spent so many hours talking, eating, drinking, and cuddling with one another in this last month. They didn’t even have to be intimate, they could have just enjoyed each other’s warmth and company on a sofa, on the bed, on the grass outside the manor, on the floor in front of the fireplace. They could have found about their parenthood together.

She sighed. There was no point in wondering about hypothetical scenarios.

If Voldemort wasn’t going to make the first and crucial step towards their happiness, _she_ was going to do it for them, because she was determined to have a family of her own with Voldemort, and their baby _will_ have both of its parents together, happily married, and it will start after she returns from their three-day-two-night trip to Devon.

She just hoped her pregnancy symptoms wouldn’t hinder her while on the trip. It was already hard enough to convince her parents to use muggle transport to get there; she really didn’t need nausea or fainting as well.

…

It was nice to see her friends again, but she wished she could get a moment alone with Luna without arousing suspicions. She got her chance when they went to bed on the thirtieth and Hermione went to the bathroom.

“Luna, I’m scared,” she admitted. “I don’t know a thing about parenting and I don’t know how to tell everyone about it.”

Luna sat beside her on the bed, rubbing soothing circles on her back, while she hugged her knees to her chest.

“What if I’m a bad mother? What if Voldemort doesn’t want the child?”

“I suppose having doubts in this situation is normal,” whispered Luna in her soft voice, “when you tell him about the child, he will have similar doubts, but I can tell you with certainty, everything will turn out okay for both of you. Just don’t give up or let go. Insist. He’ll succumb,” Luna assured her with a smile.

Feeling slightly lighter than before, she exhaled and nodded.

“Luna,” she said, eyeing her, “how is it that you knew all those things about me? … About Hermione?” she wondered. “Because you knew Voldemort gave orders to put my name in the goblet. You knew that I would win the tournament, that I would meet him in the cemetery, help him get his body back and that I would end up having sex with him that would result in this pregnancy. Now, you’re saying that all will end well for us. How far does your knowledge extend into the future?”

“As for how,” began Luna, “I’m a seer, Aya. I can see the future, or rather different possibilities of how things could go. But I’m not almighty or all knowing. I can only sense and see the future when it comes to people I’m close with; sometimes it’s immediate, as it was the case with Hermione’s attack, but sometimes I can see possibilities for months or even years to come,” she told her.

“The reason I can see further into your relationship with Voldemort is because you two are important figures in the grand scheme of things in this world. How you interact with Voldemort and how he interacts with you is crucial for the magical world. It could be our salvation, or it could be our damnation.”

Aya gulped.

“Either way, regardless of the impact you two have as individuals and the impact you can have as a couple, I care for your happiness the most. I say that everything will work out fine, but it will only end well if you work for it, Aya. You and Voldemort.”

“So … there’s still a possibility we might not be together as a couple? As a family?”

“Unfortunately,” said Luna grimly.

“But only if I do nothing or if I give up on him, right?”

Luna nodded. “When you go see him, he will act cold and distant, he will say things that he doesn’t mean, but that clearly voice his doubts. Even when you will provide counterarguments, he will still cling to his doubts and try to push you away. It’s crucial that you persevere in your endeavour to get through to him. He cares for you, deeply so, like he has never cared or felt for anyone before, but these previously unknown and foreign emotions scare him. He feels overwhelmed and he doesn’t know what to do with them, how to react. In fact, he thinks they are a weakness, something that hinders him from achieving his goals. It’s important that you show him that they are by no means a weakness.”

“I won’t let him go, Luna,” she said with determination. “He’s the man I love; he’s the father of my child. I’m not letting him slip away. He’s mine to love and to cherish, dammit. Mine to spend my life with, to make him happy, to give him a family he never had.”

Luna smiled.

…

When she returned home on August 1st, late in the afternoon, she found a letter and an owl on her bed. Thinking it was a reply from Voldemort, she tore it open, but immediately recognised Barty’s handwriting. Still, she read it.

_Miss Aya,_

_I apologise if I am intruding on you, I was not going to write to you, but after watching my master struggle with his memories and emotions for you over this past month to the point of barely eating and getting himself drunk, I am afraid I could not stand by and watch him waste away without doing something about it anymore._

_Just so you know, I am writing this letter behind his back, something I thought I would never do, but if it will help him become normal again, or at least how he used to be before you two were intimate, then I am willing to do it._

_I have read your last letter to him (I can’t believe I snuck into his office and broke into his desk drawers … if he finds out about it, I’m a dead man) and I think I could help you meet him. Please, let me know if you can meet me tomorrow at seven o’clock in the morning at the Leaky Cauldron (not inside, but rather just outside the pub) as soon as you read this message. Use my owl, which should be waiting for a reply … and some snacks (I think it’s only fair you treat my owl a bit after all the times I had to give snacks to yours)._

_With kind regards,_

_Barty_

_P. S. Excuse my curiosity, but just what exactly do you have to tell my Lord? I just don’t want you to make him into a bigger mess than he already is with whatever you have to tell him, that’s all._

She hurried to her desk, to write a reply.

_Barty,_

_Thank you for your help. I was planning to visit him tomorrow anyway, but I will meet you there. Just so you know, we can’t use wizard means to travel to Little Hangleton._

_I can’t promise you not to make him into a bigger mess with what I have to tell him, but I must speak with him. Not only did I find an explanation as to why we were intimate that night after the ritual, but also … (you have to promise you won’t tell him anything before I tell him personally) I’m pregnant. I’m carrying your master’s child and I want him to know that. He deserves and needs to know he will be a father._

_He might not like the news (in fact, I’m quite positive he will panic more than before), but I refuse to let him go. I want us (Voldemort, the baby, and me) to be a family. I want to make him happy, Barty. I want him to be happy, not only because he deserves to be happy, but also because I love him with every fibre of my being. He’s the most attractive and amazing man I know and I want him to understand that._

_I will see you tomorrow._

_Aya_

_P. S. Don’t worry, I’ll treat your owl to the finest owl treats, she/he has ever tasted._

After making sure Barty’s owl was properly treated and sending the reply back with it, Kreacher appeared in her room, calling her for supper. She joined her fathers in the dining room.

Midway through the meal, she felt dizzy. She fought to keep it at bay and not let it overtake her, but despite her best efforts, she fainted in front of Severus and Sirius.

They immediately reacted by calling her name and holding her upright in the seat, before carrying her to the sofa in the drawing room.

“Pup,” Sirius called to her, gently tapping her cheeks, “wake up. Please, don’t scare us like this, pup.”

In the meantime, Severus performed a quick general health scan on her. Nothing seemed to be wrong with her … except for one thing. He paled as he stared at the results and at her abdomen. Sirius looked up at him.

“What’s wrong, Severus?” he inquired, concerned. “What’s wrong with our pup?”

Instead of replying, he simply offered him the parchment. Sirius grabbed it, but he didn’t comprehend some of the expressions and the numbers. “I don’t understand shit from this, Severus,” he said in frustration. “What do all these numbers mean?”

Severus sat in the nearest chair, still completely stunned. “It means, Sirius,” he said, sighing and pressing a hand to his forehead, “that our pup is pregnant.”

Sirius looked petrified. “Pregnant?” he said in a barely audible whisper. “No,” he started shaking his head and breathing hard. “No, this can’t be happening, Severus. There must be some mistake. Maybe you’re misreading the results.”

Severus looked defeated. “I wish I was misreading them, but the levels of HCG hormone, which is the pregnancy hormone, in her blood and urine are high enough that if a muggle lab had performed their pregnancy blood or urine test it would have come out positive.”

With elbows against the knees, Sirius supported his head on his hands, and remained like that for what felt like an eternity, silent and unmoving.

“How far is she?” he asked in a dangerously calm voice.

“Hard to say, but based on the quantity of the hormone, I would say roughly five to six weeks. Maybe even more.”

“So … a little over a month? While she was still at school?”

“It’s plausible, yes.”

Sirius’ expression darkened. “Can you tell if she was raped?”

“There has been some recent bruising, but it doesn’t look like she was struggling.” Severus cleared his throat. “However, I can’t say for sure. We’ll have to ask her once she wakes up.”

Sirius simply nodded, wearing a grim expression.

It didn’t take long for Aya to open her eyes. For the first few seconds, she looked lost, as she inspected them and the room with her eyes, until she visibly relaxed … only to tense up when she saw the grave expressions on Severus and Sirius’ faces.

“Is something the matter?” she asked tentatively, looking from one to the other.

“That’s what Severus and I would like to know, pup,” said Sirius with an unnerving calm. “Is there something you would like to tell us?”

She swallowed hard. There was hammering and buzzing in her head and she felt light-headed all over again. Did they know? Did they at least suspect? This wasn’t how she envisioned telling her parents about her pregnancy.

“Siri,” she began, looking at him, “Sev,” she looked at Severus, “… I’m pregnant.”

Sirius’ expression made her nervous, and with how quiet Severus was, it didn’t make things easier for her either.

“How long have you known about your pregnancy?” inquired Severus in a soft voice.

“A week maybe?” she said, uncertain.

“A week,” repeated Sirius. “And when exactly were you planning to tell us?”

She let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“What happened to waiting until your early twenties, ha?” insisted Sirius sarcastically. “I thought you weren’t planning on having sex and children this early. You said so yourself just before we started refurbishing this place. You said you weren’t interested in teen sex. Or have you forgotten about that somehow?”

“Things happened?” she offered lamely. “Besides, it’s not that big of a deal,” she tried to sound dismissive.

Sirius looked baffled. “Not a big deal? Not a big deal! Of course, it’s a big deal! You have barely turned sixteen yesterday, Aya. Sixteen! You have barely taken your O.W.L.s., you still have two years of Hogwarts ahead of you and you want to tell me that being a pregnant teenager is completely normal!”

“If you’re worried about my education, I will still complete it, even if I have to do it through private tutors or self-study. I won’t abandon my education,” she assured him. “As for my age, I’m aware of how young I am biologically. Mentally, however, I am far more mature than your average teenager. Just because things didn’t turn out the way I had planned them, it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with this current development,” she said coolly. “Unless you’re trying to imply I should abort this child.”

Sirius looked too stunned to speak. Severus intervened. “We don’t doubt that you’re smart and mature enough to tackle motherhood and complete your studies, and neither Sirius nor I would ever tell you to abort your child, especially if it’s something you wanted, but we are worried this entire thing might have happened against your will. Did anyone force themselves on you?” asked Severus carefully.

Her eyes widened in bafflement. “What? No!” she exclaimed. “No one forced me.”

“What about the bruising?” prompted Sirius, after recovering from his earlier shock. “How do you explain the recent bruises on your body?”

“They’re called love bites, hickeys, love scratches, or whatever you want to call them.”

Sirius snorted in disbelief.

“Who’s the father?” he continued his interrogation. “Is it one of your housemates?”

“No.”

“Is it a Gryffindor?”

“No.”

“Is it a Ravenclaw?”

“No.”

“Is it a Slytherin?”

At that, she paused, thinking. Before Sirius could take her silence as the answer he needed to know, she said, “Yes and no,” which confused the hell out of Sirius and Severus.

“What kind of answer is that supposed to be?” he wanted to know.

“No, because he’s not a student anymore and yes, because when he was a student, he was sorted into Slytherin,” she explained.

Sirius’ eyes grew wide. “Not a student? THEN WHO IS THE MOTHERFUCKER THAT DARED PUT A FINGER ON YOU?” exploded Sirius, pushing himself off the chair he was sitting in. “Who is the bastard that dared seduce you? Who do I have to murder or at least beat to a pulp for getting you pregnant at sixteen?”

She took a few deep breaths, before saying, “Voldemort.”

Both Severus and Sirius froze in shock. Sirius recovered first. He blinked a few times to clear his thoughts. “Pup,” he breathed, “… you can’t be serious … Voldemort?” he said in disbelief. “You mean to tell us that the father of your child is the Dark Lord?”

“Yes,” she said calmly, “the father of my child is Lord Voldemort, You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord, or whatever you want to call him.”

Severus paled, while Sirius looked like he was about to murder someone. “That son of a bitch,” he snarled viciously. “THAT SON OF A BITCH!” Sirius started pacing the room, fingers tangled in his curls. “Wait until I get my hands on him,” he said with a mad and murderous glint in his eyes. “He will regret the day he decided to put his dick anywhere near my pup.”

“I won’t allow you to hurt him, Sirius!” she said emphatically, pushing herself off the sofa. “Do you hear me?”

Sirius turned to her, expression wild. “And why is that? Give me one good reason not to go straight to that motherfucker’s house and rip him apart limb by limb!”

“BECAUSE HE’S THE MAN OF MY LIFE!” shouted Aya at the top of her lungs. “He’s the man of my dreams, the father of my child, the man I love with everything that I am! I want to spend every single day of my life with him, by his side! I want him to be the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see when I fall asleep!”

Both males were speechless.

“I love him like I’ve never loved anyone, Sirius,” she added in a calmer tone. “You are my father, but I won’t allow you to take him away from me. Not you not anyone else.”

“Aya,” began Sirius, when he found his voice again, “he killed your parents. How can you love the killer of your parents?”

“I am aware he killed them, Sirius,” she said coldly, “I just don’t care.”

“Aya,” interjected Severus, “I don’t want to discredit your feelings for … the Dark Lord, but what if you’re just confused? You’re young, mature yes, but young nonetheless. You could be mistaking infatuation for love.”

“Severus,” she sighed, “I may be young and inexperienced when it comes to love, but that doesn’t make my feelings for Voldemort any less genuine.”

She looked at them. “Severus, Sirius, what I feel for Voldemort, I have never felt like that in my life with anyone. It’s the first and only time I feel attracted to someone, the first and only time I want to kiss and have sex with someone and it’s with him. Him and no one else. I want to marry and have a family with him.”

Her fathers looked lost.

“How long have you felt like this, Aya?” asked Severus. “Since when have you had these feelings for … Voldemort?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It just kind of happened naturally over time I suppose. I don’t think it started in my first year, but probably around my fourth year, after Sirius was declared innocent.”

“What does this have anything to do with you having romantic feelings for Voldemort?” asked Sirius, confused.

“It was Voldemort who captured and delivered Pettigrew to Amelia Bones.”

Sirius and Severus’ eyes widened.

“Voldemort helped me get back my freedom?” Sirius asked in disbelief. He collapsed into the chair. “I can’t believe this. The person who killed my best friend helped me prove my innocence.”

“How do you know this information, Aya?” wanted to know Severus.

“He told me himself in a letter,” she answered.

“A letter?” repeated Sirius.

“Have you answered his letter?” continued Severus.

“Yes.”

“Have you established a correspondence with him through letters?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still have the letters you’ve exchanged with him?”

“Yes.”

“Can we see them?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said apologetically. “There’s some information about Voldemort that people shouldn’t know about.”

“Aya,” said Sirius in a warning tone, “you’re trying to convince Severus and me in your feelings towards Voldemort. I say we should know what he said to you in your over-a-year-long correspondence that occurred behind our backs. His secrets and plans for world domination be damned!”

She winced. “Fine,” she agreed, “but only if you promise not to divulge the contents of the letters to anyone, Dumbledore especially, and no matter how the letters make you feel, don’t destroy them. They are really precious to me.”

She really didn’t want to show her parents all the things Voldemort wrote to her, but if Barty knew about every single word she wrote to Voldemort, she might show Voldemort’s words to her parents as well.

Severus and Sirius exchanged brief looks, before Severus spoke for both of them. “We promise not to speak about what’s written in the letters to anyone, or to damage the letters in any way.”

She nodded and went to fetch them from her room. She returned with a small metal box, where she kept all of Voldemort’s letters.

As they read the letters, Sirius seemed to concentrate on the fact that Voldemort was spying on her and that he was trying to entice her to come to his side, “How dare he offer you a dozen animal skulls and call you his Queen and Empress,” he ranted, or his audacity to call himself her King, Emperor and Lord.

Severus, on the other hand, seemed to focus on the fact Aya somehow came into possession of several Voldemort’s horcruxes, “That explains why he didn’t die that night,” he sighed, as well as the fact he planned a meeting between them sometime during Aya’s fifth year. Since her pregnancy was only entering the second month, it had to have happened towards the end of the school year. However, the exact how, when and where of their meeting escaped him.

At least both of them noticed some level of flirting coming off the pages. Whether Voldemort was aware of it, she didn’t know. Probably, it was done unconsciously, just how she was unconsciously flirting with him, but now that she thought about it, yes, she was definitely flirting with him and she felt flattered by his praise.

When they read all the letters, Severus sighed in defeat, pinching his nose. “He mentions meeting with you this year. Can you tell us how exactly you two managed to meet outside of Hogwarts?”

“Yeah,” added Sirius, “tell us all about the how, the when, and the where.”

She took a deep breath. “Well, it happened on June 24th, at his manor in Little Hangleton, after I helped him get his body back,” she said simply.

“How exactly did you manage to get out of Hogwarts and go all the way to Little Hangleton, help Voldemort get his body back,” Sirius gulped, before saying the next phrase, “have _sex_ with him and come back the next day without raising any alarm in your roommates or the rest of the school?”

“With a portkey.”

“A portkey? And how exactly did you get a portkey? Did he send it to you, because not a single letter mentions how, where and when you’ll actually meet?” wanted to know Sirius.

“It happened when I touched the Triwizard Cup at the centre of the maze.”

Sirius and Severus were both confused. “Explain,” demanded Sirius.

“On June 24th, at around five o’clock and twenty minutes, I touched the Triwizard Cup, activating a time capsule, which froze you for 24 hours, and a portkey that transported me to the graveyard in Little Hangleton. There, I helped Voldemort in a ritual that gave him a body by reciting the last line of the potion and adding three drops of my blood, _willingly_ ,” she narrated. “Since at the time of the ritual, I was a complete virgin, meaning I have never kissed or been otherwise involved with anyone, magic reacted to the fact someone used my blood to regain a body. Even though I gave my blood willingly, magic felt that Voldemort owed me a favour and should show me his gratitude.”

She paused, trying to find a way to phrase what followed next. “Because I used a different wording during the ritual than it was originally meant and because of our romantic feelings for each other, magic recognised us as soulmates and created a soul bond between us. Since my deepest wish for a while now has been to marry a Demon Lord and have his little demon babies, the magic made it possible for me to be able to conceive and for Voldemort to ensure I got enough of his … sperm to impregnate me. A new body for a new life, so to speak. When the 24 hours since I got to Little Hangleton ran out, the Cup became an active portkey again, the time capsule collapsed and as it collapsed, a powerful mass memory modification charm fell over everyone, making you believe June 25th was always the day the third Triwizard task was supposed to happen,” she concluded.

For a minute, Sirius and Severus simply stared at her in shocked silence, unable to find the words to describe what they thought and felt at that moment. They didn’t know what bothered and shocked them most: knowing their daughter had willingly helped Voldemort recover his body, their daughter wanting to marry a Demon Lord and have demon babies (apparently magic felt Voldemort was a Demon Lord, therefore made it possible for them to … mate and reproduce), or the fact that Voldemort placed them under a time capsule that contained a powerful mass memory modification charm, just to cover up the fact he “kidnapped” Aya, used her blood in a ritual and then proceeded to have unprotected sex with her that left her pregnant. Probably all three things to varying degrees.

“Not only did he knock you up, but he also subjected us to a mass memory modification charm?” sighed Sirius, defeated and dejected. “At least tell me you didn’t have sex in the cemetery,” he pleaded.

“No, the effects of magic took a while to kick in,” she said.

He let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “But if magic affected both of you, doesn’t that mean you weren’t aware and conscious of your words and actions?” questioned Sirius. He turned to Severus. “Doesn’t this make it non-consensual, Severus?”

“It depends,” replied Severus. “What kind of wording did you use?”

“Blood of the partner, readily offered, you will resurrect your companion,” provided Aya.

Severus looked exasperated. “Aya, with that kind of wording you might have as well married the Dark Lord then and there. No wonder magic thought it fit to bind you two together in more ways than one.”

“Married?!” choked out Sirius, pale as a ghost.

“I didn’t know changing a few words would have that effect, okay,” exclaimed Aya, feeling exasperated as well, “but I don’t regret changing the wording, because even though our actions were not entirely our own that night, to me it never felt like I was doing anything against my will. In fact, as soon as I regained my senses I was more than ready to do it again, because what happened between me and Voldemort that night was the most wonderful thing that happened to me.”

Severus just stared at her in disbelief, while Sirius proceeded to protect his ears and sing a melody to drown out her words. “Lalalala. I don’t want to listen to this anymore. I don’t want to hear my daughter talk about how wonderful having sex with Voldemort was. Lalalala.”

She sighed and waited for Sirius to recompose himself. When he did, she spoke again.

“Regardless of how I ended up being intimate with Voldemort, I want you to understand it wasn’t rape. At best, I could say it felt like being drunk, or at least what I think feels like being drunk, and letting go of my inhibitions and letting my deepest desires run loose. Now, if you don’t have any more questions, I think I will go to bed.”

They remained silent. She placed all the letters back inside the box, closed it and left the drawing room.

…

She woke up at 5:00. She dressed in a sleeveless, white and blue summer dress with a short skirt and a floral print (she also covered her scar and put on sunglasses), went to the toilet, and packed her phone, her wallet, Voldemort’s journal, the diadem, and the bookmarked book as quietly as she could without waking up her fathers. She left them a letter on her bed, for when they noticed her absence, but right now, it was best they didn’t know she was planning to go see Voldemort.

She snuck down the stairs and was about to open the door, when she heard Kreacher’s voice from behind her.

“Where is mistress going so early in the morning?”

After stifling a scream and regaining some of her breath, she approached the elf. “I have some business to attend to, Kreacher, that no one must know about for now.”

“Will Mistress Aya be coming back?” questioned the elf.

Aya didn’t know how to answer that. If everything went well with Voldemort, it was possible she might move in with him that same day. “I don’t know, Kreacher,” she answered truthfully, squatting before him.

“Will Mistress Aya leave Kreacher, just like Master Regulus left him?”

“I’m not going to die, Kreacher,” she assured him, “but there is a person I want to be with, and he doesn’t live here. However, I won’t abandon you, Kreacher. If you want, I can take you with me to my new home, where you will be able to take care of me,” she rubbed her abdomen, “and my baby.”

Kreacher’s eyes widened in awe. “Mistress is going to have a little Master?”

“Or little Mistress,” she added with a smile.

“Is the person Mistress Aya wants to be with the father of the little Master or little Mistress?”

“Yes, Kreacher, I am going to live with the father of my baby.”

“Kreacher won’t tell anything to Master Sirius,” whispered the elf vehemently.

She hugged the old, wrinkly elf and thanked him.

…

She arrived five minutes before seven o’clock, and noticed Barty was already waiting for her in front of the pub. As soon as she greeted him, they entered the pub, approached the barkeeper and Barty slammed a few coins on the counter, requesting a room for half an hour.

Once they were in the room, Barty proceeded to ward it against eavesdroppers and intruders. Once, he made sure no one could listen in on their conversation, he turned to her.

“We don’t have much time,” he told her, as he produced a shallow and wide stone basin carved in runes and filled with a weird liquid from inside his cloak. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen one,” he began, “but this is a Pensieve … My master’s Pensieve to be precise.”

“Let me guess, you took it without Voldemort’s permission and knowledge.”

Barty paled and gulped. “Exactly. Let’s hope he doesn’t notice it missing, otherwise I’m a dead man for doing something behind his back … yet again.”

“And what is a Pensieve anyway?”

“It’s a magical object that allows you to store, review, and relive memories in an as detailed manner as possible from a third-person perspective,” explained Barty.

“Okay … and why was it necessary for you to bring it all the way here with you?”

“I have something to show you.” He set the basin on the bed, took out his wand and pressed it to his temple. As he pulled it away, a silvery string came out of his temple, startling Aya a bit.

“I’ll be here, standing watch, while you view the memory.”

“And how exactly do I do it?”

“You submerge your head in it until you feel like your falling inside it.”

She looked apprehensive at that explanation, because she couldn’t look under water or any other liquid, but did as told. Taking a deep breath, she knelt beside the bed and submerged her head halfway into the basin.

As Barty said, she felt like falling.

…

_She landed on solid ground. Floorboards to be exact. She looked around the room and saw Barty reading and jotting down something, until Winky apparated with a ‘pop’ in the middle of Barty’s room._

_Memory-Barty looked up._

_“Young Master,” she cried, “you have to hurry, your master is banging his head against his desk.”_

_Letting go of the papers, memory-Barty raced towards Voldemort’s office with Aya hurrying behind him. As he opened the door and looked inside, she saw memory-Voldemort hunched over the desk and rhythmically banging his head against the wood._

_She felt her chest constrict at the sight, but she also noticed other things on the desk, such as an empty bottle of fire whiskey and an empty glass, as well as her Birthday and New Years’ card to Voldemort, the snow globe, the two pictures she sent him, her letters scattered all over the place._

_He kept everything she gave him. He kept every letter she wrote to him, as well as her interview in the Daily Prophet and her letter to the same newspaper._

_“My Lord,” she concentrated on memory-Barty and memory-Voldemort again, “is something the matter?”_

_“I’m losing my mind, Barty,” drawled memory-Voldemort in a drunken stupor. “That’s what it is.”_

_Memory-Barty looked confused. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, my Lord.”_

_“It’s Aya,” he snapped impatiently at memory-Barty. “Ever since that blasted ritual happened and what followed after it, Aya has been plaguing my mind,” slurred memory-Voldemort. “I thought getting rid of every thought I had of her in a Pensieve was going to help, but it only made me anxious and even if I couldn’t recall her name, she was always there in the back of my mind, nagging at me, distracting me.”_

_Memory-Barty looked unsure as to how to respond to that, so he simply slung his master’s arm over his shoulders and lifted him from the chair. Memory-Voldemort didn’t resist, but he did ask, “Barty … where are you taking me?”_

_“To your room, my Lord.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because you need to sleep.”_

_“I don’t need sleep, I need Aya,” protested memory-Voldemort. He then realised what he said and corrected himself. “Well, I need to forget her. I even tried to drink myself to unconsciousness, just to forget and escape her, but the more I drank, the more I thought about her.”_

_“You won’t think about her if you’re asleep, my Lord,” tried to reassure him memory-Barty._

_“If I sleep, I’ll end up dreaming about her.”_

_She followed them while memory-Barty struggled to keep memory-Voldemort upright, as he staggered and swayed. Memory-Barty opened the door and led memory-Voldemort towards the bed. He let him fall onto it face first._

_“Why can’t I forget her, Barty?” said memory-Voldemort suddenly, the pillow muffling his voice. “Why no matter how much work I try to bury myself in, she keeps resurfacing in my mind like some disease?”_

_“Well, my Lord,” began memory-Barty tentatively, “have you ever considered the possibility of being attracted to her … in love perhaps?”_

_Memory-Voldemort looked at memory-Barty, scandalised. “Me, attracted to Aya? Me, in love with Aya? How can I be in love when I don’t know what love is, Barty? I don’t know how to love,” he lamented. “I shouldn’t be able to have that capacity, Barty,” he concluded in a subdued voice._

_“I don’t understand why not, my Lord,” wondered memory-Barty._

_Memory-Voldemort rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with the forearm. “Because I was conceived under the influence of a love potion, that’s why,” he rasped after a long silence. “And, as you know, it is commonly believed people like me are incapable of feeling love.”_

_“Maybe that somehow changed when you got a new body, my Lord,” offered memory-Barty. “Not just this body, but the rudimentary one you had before this one as well.”_

_Memory-Voldemort peeked at him._

_“I don’t know, Barty,” he sighed dejectedly, covering his eyes again. “The only thing I know is that I can’t get her out of my mind. It’s as if there is a battle raging inside me and I’m losing it. I keep getting distracted at random times. More times than not, I’m absentminded to the point I don’t know what I’m reading or what I want to say. I can’t escape her no matter what I do. She haunts me in my waking and sleeping hours. Sometimes it feels like drowning. I’m drowning in memories of her and the worst part is that I don’t have the strength to fight it anymore.”_

_He looked at him. “I can’t function like that, Barty. How can I perform as a Dark Lord, if I can’t pull myself together?”_

_Aya had approached the bed while they talked and was now lying down next to memory-Voldemort, misty eyed and with a smile on her face, as she tried to trace his features._

_“Maybe that’s just it, my Lord,” said memory-Barty. “Maybe you shouldn’t try to forget her or fight what you feel. Instead, you should write to her, see her, talk to her. Repeat whatever you did that night after the ritual. It’s clear your mind and body want it … badly.”_

_Memory-Voldemort stared at the ceiling with a lost gaze. “I don’t know what will happen when I see her, hear her. I don’t want to lose control, Barty. I’ve spent too many years of my life feeling helpless; I don’t want to feel like that ever again.” There was a hint of panic in his voice and features._

_“If I may be bold, my Lord, and offer you some advice?”_

_Memory-Voldemort waved his arm granting permission to say whatever he wanted to say._

_“Do what you desire the most, my Lord. If Miss Aya is what you desire the most, then I suggest you hold onto her and don’t let go. If you want, I could go retrieve her and bring her to you. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”_

_“Why would she want someone like me, Barty? I’m old. Ugly. Sadistic …” He hiccoughed. “And she’s young.” He closed his eyes, his voice slowly sounding drowsier and drowsier. “Beautiful. Intelligent. Sadistic. Caring … Soft and supple … Warm …”_

_A light snore escaped his mouth as he fell asleep. Memory-Barty called him a few times to make sure his master was asleep, then let out a sigh and left the room._

_At the same time, the image of Voldemort turned to fumes and she felt a force pull her away. A moment later, she came out of the Pensieve with a gasp._

…

She needed a few seconds to get used to her surroundings and to normalise her breathing.

Barty was beside her in a flash. Her eyes watered as she choked out, “I miss him, Barty. I miss him so much.” Tears ran down her cheeks as Barty offered her a handkerchief, which she gladly accepted.

“My master misses you too, Miss.”

She sniffed and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Why are you doing this?” She couldn’t fathom the reason why Barty would be so invested in Voldemort’s well-being and peace of mind.

“Because I want to see my master happy.”

“Why?” she insisted. “Why do you care for him so much?”

“He’s like a father to me. I may refer to him as ‘my Lord and Master’, but to me he’s been more of a father than my biological father,” elaborated Barty. “But mostly also because ever since you two were …” he coughed into his fist, “… intimate, he hasn’t had a moment of peace. You seem to be crucial for his well-being and happiness, and if he’s too stubborn to do it himself, then I am going to do it for him … even if it means risking his fury.”

She chuckled.

“You said in your letter you want to make him happy.”

“And I intend to keep my promise, Barty,” she told him with conviction. “He’s my happiness as well and I’m not going to let him go. He’s not the only one who’s been feeling miserable, you know?”

“Good,” he nodded, “because no matter what he says, he wants and needs you in his life.” He let out a sigh and ran his nine fingers through his hair. “I never thought I would see him love sick, but I suppose even the great Dark Lord Voldemort needs an equally great person by his side to give him love and affection … you.”

Her eyes watered again at Barty’s words. What was wrong with her? Why was she so emotional lately? It’s probably the hormones.

While she wiped away the freshest tears from the corners of her eyes, he cleared his throat. “So …” he began, eyes fixed on her lower abdomen and the corners of his lips lifted in a subdued smile. “You’re expecting a little Lord?”

She smiled and cupped her pelvis. “Or Lady,” she added. “But yes, I am expecting a baby with Voldemort.”

“Then what are we waiting for, my Lady?” he said melodramatically, standing up and offering her a hand. “We must inform my Lord immediately about this development.”

She chuckled and accepted his hand. “I couldn’t agree more,” she said, smiling, “just don’t forget; we can’t use apparition or the floo.”

“Right,” he sighed. “The Knight Bus is known for uncomfortable rides that make over ninety percent of the customers motion sick, so I suppose that option is out the window as well.”

“We can use a muggle bus,” suggested Aya. “After all, I did take a trip to Little Hangleton with one once. It takes almost three hours and a half to get there, but it’s better than nothing.”

Barty grimaced. “I don’t particularly like the idea of using muggle transport, but if it won’t harm the baby, I suppose it’s worth the suffering.”

She gently swatted his arm. “Don’t exaggerate, Barty, you’ve been using muggle transport for seven years every time you went to Hogwarts and back to London.” He gaped like a fish. “Or what? Did you think Hogwarts Express was a magical invention?”

She looked at the clock on her phone. It was 7:26.

“Come,” she told him. “There’s a bus scheduled for Little Hangleton from Victoria Coach Station at eight o’clock sharp and we need to hurry if we want to catch it.”

They arrived at the station on foot in 25 minutes, with eight minutes to spare. Aya purchased two one-way tickets to Little Hangleton and paid a little under fifteen pounds. Luckily, there were no people this early at the beginning of August, so there were no queues and plenty of empty seats.

They boarded the bus two minutes before it was due to depart.

…

They didn’t speak for the first twenty minutes of the ride. Aya was lost in thought gazing out the window, her chin and mouth supported by the hand.

“You’re awfully quiet,” commented Barty.

She started at the sound of his voice and looked at him. “It’s just that … I don’t know how to tell him about the ritual … the baby,” she whispered. “Or what to tell him first. Do I tell him about the baby before the ritual, or do I tell him about the ritual first and then the baby?”

“I’m afraid I don’t really know how to help you there, Miss,” winced Barty apologetically.

She sighed and returned to gazing through the window. After a while, Barty spoke again. “I may not know how to help you find the way to tell him about it, but when it comes to whether you should tell him about the ritual or the baby first, my advice would be: first tell him about the ritual and then about the baby.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I figured that would be the best order to tell him as well.” She sighed. “However, that doesn’t make it any less nerve-wrecking than before.”

“Maybe,” began Barty tentatively, “instead of wrecking your brain over how to disclose the information you want to disclose to him, you should try to relax, think about something else for the time being.”

“I can try.” She grimaced at the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach and chest. “I just hope Sirius and Severus won’t notice my absence until after I’ve had the chance to speak with Voldemort and settle things with him.”

“Why is that?” he wondered.

“Because I have no doubt that my parents will apparate straight to Little Hangleton after they read the letter I left them.”

“I know Severus was at the manor for the meeting,” he voiced his thoughts, “but I don’t think he knows where the manor is located.”

“I might have told them about the place and how it is called,” admitted Aya sheepishly.

Barty gawked at her. “Why would you do something like that?”

“They found out I was pregnant yesterday, when I fainted in front of them. I had to tell them everything that happened, okay?” whisper-yelled Aya. “I even showed them his letters.”

Barty leaned back in his seat with a stunned expression and remained like that for several seconds.

“They promised not to divulge the contents of the letters. They didn’t destroy them after reading them, so I suppose we can trust them on keeping their word about keeping whatever was written in the letters a secret as well,” said Aya to calm Barty.

He pinched the bridge of his nose to collect his thoughts. “Perhaps you should tell my Lord about that after you two get together?” suggested Barty. “Let’s hope they don’t come before you had the chance to tell him.”

…

After failing to concentrate, Voldemort let out a heavy sigh, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. He was thinking about Aya again … then again, when was the last time he didn’t think about her in some way, shape or form?

While he let his mind indulge him with images of Aya, he was vaguely aware of two people crossing the wards. Probably two of his Death Eaters bringing a report of some sort. He sighed. He wasn’t certain when he’ll get through the reports.

Someone knocked on the door and he gave them permission to enter. The door opened and closed. There was a long silence, before the visitor spoke. When they finally did, Voldemort thought he was hearing things.

“Long time no see … Voldemort.”

His eyes flew open and his breath caught in his chest as his gaze fell upon Aya. He froze. This must be some trick of his mind, because why else would Aya be standing before him in flesh.

He waited for her to disappear, but seconds kept passing by and she was still there, looking breathtakingly gorgeous and tempting in that summer dress with half of her supple thighs exposed and he wanted nothing more than to rip it off her body, place her on his desk and fuck her until she was an incoherent moaning mess beneath him, begging for his cum.

He swallowed and gripped the arms of his chair, hard.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice and posture stiff. “I thought I made it very clear that it was best if we didn’t see each other ever again.”

He was clutching the arms of the chair with so much force that he wondered how the wood hadn’t splintered under his grip yet.

“And I thought I made it clear that you’re the only one who thinks that, because I don’t,” countered Aya.

He pushed himself out of the chair and went to the window, facing away.

“If this is about whatever you have to tell me, I don’t see why you had to come all the way here, when you could have told me in a letter,” he said in a cold tone.

“You’re right,” she allowed, “I could have told you about it in a letter, but I prefer a more personal approach. Besides, what I have to tell you is not something that should be discussed in a letter.”

“And what could possibly be so important for you to tell me in person?” said Voldemort in a mocking tone.

She remained unfazed by his attitude.

“Two things, actually,” she said simply.

He swallowed, the muscle in his jaw twitching from gritting his teeth. “I’m listening.”

“The first has to do with the ritual and our behaviour after it,” she said softly. “… My friend Hannah gave a book to me for my birthday in second year about wizarding bonds and rituals.” As she spoke, she reached for the same book, where she bookmarked the relevant pages. He remained unmoving. “…There’s a chapter titled ‘ _Virgins & Magic Rituals_’ and within that chapter there’s a subchapter called ‘ _Virgin Blood & the Regeneration Ritual_’.”

That got his attention, because he glanced her way from the corners of his eyes. She opened the book and said, “It says:

 _Though dark in nature and mainly used to restore non-corporeal wizards to their bodies, the Regeneration Ritual (also referred to as Restoration Ritual) is also known to forge different bonds, many of them permanent or lifelong. The nature of these bonds depends on the incantation used in the ritual, the nature of blood, and the manner in which the blood was obtained_.

_The ritual always uses the same kind of ingredients: a bone of a relative, close or distant, a piece of flesh from either a servant, a relative, a friend or an acquaintance, and blood from someone with whom they share a strong and deep connection, a relative, a friend, a partner or even an enemy. Depending on the nature and strength of the connection as well as whether the blood used comes from a virgin or not, and if it was extracted forcibly or given willingly, the results can vary greatly._

_Since this chapter deals with virgins and their involvement in rituals, we are going to take a closer look at what happens when one uses virgin blood in a Regeneration Ritual._

  1. _Extracted by force – not an enemy vs. an enemy_



_Should virgin blood be forcibly extracted and the victim not an enemy, the ritual would still give the non-corporeal wizard a body, however, magic would inflict a severe punishment on the perpetrator, usually by establishing a master-slave bond, where the perpetrator would become the slave and the victim the master._

_This type of bond is permanent (not lifelong!), meaning the perpetrator will remain a slave regardless of their death. They will remain a slave through their current life and the subsequent rebirths, unless the master decides to release the slave._

_Should the slave attempt to harm, maim or kill his or her master, the pain will instead be inflicted upon them. Should their master die by someone else’s hand, instead of being liberated, they will perish together with their master. However, should their master die of natural causes, the perpetrator will not perish, but simply await for his or her master to be reborn, and continue serving them._

_Should virgin blood come from an enemy, magic would still punish the perpetrator, but instead of creating a permanent or lifelong master-slave bond between the participants, it would merely limit itself to a Life Debt that the perpetrator would have towards the victim. Once the Life Debt was cleared, the perpetrator would be released and free to continue his or her feud with the victim, without suffering any repercussions._

  1. _Offered willingly – a relative vs. a friend vs. a partner_



_Depending on the nature of the connection between the participants, magic can react in different ways. For example:_

  * _Should the virgin offer his or her blood to resurrect a family member, magic would enhance the already existing bond between the family members to the point where they would be able to feel each other’s pain and feelings, as well as establish a mental communication, allowing them to stay in contact with one another even when physically separated by long distances. This kind of bond is lifelong and usually has devastating effects when one of the members passes away._
  * _Should the virgin offer his or her blood to resurrect a friend, where neither participants have any romantic feelings towards one another, magic would simply enhance the already existing bond between the participants, allowing the two to feel when the other is in danger and understand what the other is feeling. This kind of bond is lifelong. After one of the friends passes away, the side effects aren’t as strong, but the living friend feels a strong feeling of loss._
  * _Should the virgin offer his or her blood to resurrect a partner or a romantic interest, with whom the virgin had already established a romantic bond, magic would simply strengthened the already existing bond, often times making it into something lifelong if not permanent._



_However, should the virgin and the beneficiary have romantic feelings for each other, but not have a bond in place, then magic would forge a soul bond between the two. Whether the bond will be lifelong or permanent is determined by the strength of their emotions for one another. Should magic recognise the two as soulmates then the soul bond forged during the ritual automatically becomes permanent, meaning that regardless of which partner dies first, the bond will remain intact and the surviving partner will simply have to wait for his or her soulmate to be reborn.”_

At that, Voldemort whipped his head towards her, shock, incredulity and panic clearly written all over his face. She cleared her throat and continued reading:

“ _Regardless of the willingness behind the blood offer, magic would still ensure the beneficiary acted upon the desires of the virgin as a way of showing his or her gratitude. It is common for the participants not to feel completely in control of themselves and it is not uncommon for this kind of scenario to end in copulation, which in turn results in reproduction._

_However, it must be noted that though actions performed under the influence of post-ritualistic magic are not entirely one’s own, they are not done against one’s free will. They are simply the manifestation of strong, hidden, mostly unconscious, desires.”_

Voldemort crossed the distance separating them and tore the book out of her hands, frantically skimming the paragraphs she just read as if to make sure she wasn’t making things up. His breathing was erratic and his grip was tight as the words sank in his mind.

‘No, no, no,’ went through his head. ‘This can’t be happening.’

While he was busy rereading the words on the page and panicking over the implications behind them, she reached inside her bag again and pulled out her phone. She pulled up the picture of her pregnancy tests.

“This leads me to the second important news I want to tell you,” she whispered, shaking a bit.

He looked at her with wide eyes. She offered him her phone. With slightly shaky hands, he took the device and looked at the picture displayed on the screen. He wasn’t sure what it meant, until he read the last word on the stick. _Pregnant_.

“I’m pregnant,” she said softly. He remained quiet. “You’re going to be a father, Voldemort. We’re going to have a baby.”

He froze and dropped the phone and the book. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if he was still breathing.

“Voldemort?” she called to him, worried.

It was as if the piece of soul residing in his body had left it. After what felt like an eternity, he let out a shaky breath, and he swayed and staggered to his desk, where he clung for dear life. White and black spots danced before his eyes as a buzzing rang in his ears and he struggled to breathe.

A baby. Aya was expecting a baby … His baby. He was going to be a father.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to faint at the news. Not only was he soul bound to Aya, because magic saw her as his soulmate as well as someone he harboured romantic feelings for, but he was also going to have a child with her.

“A baby?” he gasped incredulously, supporting himself against the desk. “A baby, Aya?”

Her eyes misted. “Yes, Voldemort,” she smiled. “Our baby is growing here,” she caressed her lower belly, “inside of me.”

The gesture caught his eyes and he stared, alarmed, at her abdomen. “You can’t be serious, Aya,” he whispered hoarsely, shaking his head. “I can’t be a father. I’m no father material,” he insisted, agitated.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I don’t know how to be a father, Aya,” he snapped at her, putting distance between them by going around the desk. “I never had a father figure in my life; I don’t know what it means to be a parent.”

“Me neither,” she tried to appease his nerves. “But we can learn together. We can read books on developmental psychology for guidelines and then go with our gut feeling and do what we feel is the best course of action.”

All the while, he was shaking his head, as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t worthy of that title.

“I’m not ready to be a father, Aya,” he sighed. “I don’t think I ever will be.”

“And you think I am ready to be a mother at my age?” she raised her voice, exasperated. “Do you think I wanted to be a mother at sixteen?”

“Then why keep it?” His impassive voice coupled with the words felt like a knife had lodged itself between her ribs, straight through her heart. “Why do you still carry the child, if you don’t want to be a mother at sixteen? Why haven’t you aborted the baby before coming here?” As he was asking the questions, he sounded and looked lifeless.

“Because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did!” her voice cracked, her eyes watered and her throat constricted. She took a deep breath, before speaking again.

“I may be fucked up in many ways, Voldemort,” she spoke softly, “but there are limits that even I would never cross, getting rid of our baby is one of them. The thought of aborting this child _never_ crossed my mind. Yes, I didn’t plan to be a mother at sixteen, but I _do_ want to be a mother, I _do_ want to have kids with _you,_ Voldemort, whether now or years in the future, I don’t mind when as long as all the children I have are with _you_.”

As she talked, she was slowly closing the gap between them. Voldemort noticed this and started walking backwards.

“Why?” His back collided with the wall. “Why would you want to have children with someone as messed up as me? I’m a monster, Aya.” He simply couldn’t comprehend it.

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, DAMMIT!” she exclaimed and his eyes widened in shock. She bridged the remaining gap between them. “I love you with all your flaws,” she said with tenderness. “I love you,” she repeated, stroking his cheeks with affection, “and I know you love me too.”

He looked away, turning his face to the side to escape her touch. It was taking every single ounce of his self-control not to pull her towards him and devour her lips.

“You’re making quite an assumption there.” He tried to sound unaffected, dismissive, cold, as if he was not dying to make love to her.

“It’s not an assumption,” she stated with conviction. “It’s a fact. You love me, Voldemort. You love me as much as I love you.”

Something constricted his throat. He swallowed. “And what makes you think I could possibly lo- …” The word died in his throat. “Lo- …” Again, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t say it. “Lo-”

Taking pity on him, she smiled and pressed a finger to his lips.

“Sh, darling, it’s okay,” she cooed. “You don’t have to say it.” She cradled his face and his eyes fluttered shut as he focussed on her gentle whisper and her soft touch. “It would be nice to hear it at least once, but you don’t need to say it, because I know you do.”

He looked at her. “How- How do you know?”

“By how you react to me.” She stepped on her toes and placed a kiss on his chin. He let out a shaky breath through the nose and his eyes fell shut again. He pressed himself against the wall and splayed his hands against it to support himself.

“… How you spoke and referred to me in our letters.” She kissed his cheek, where a muscle jumped and jerked, because of how hard he was gritting his teeth.

“… How you’ve been spying on me and probably watched your spies’ memories in a Pensieve.” She kissed the corner of his mouth and there was a sharp intake of air on his part.

“… And what bigger proof do I need than what that book says, ha?” She hovered over his lips, teasing them with her warm breath. He shivered with want. “I dare say you’ve fallen in love with me, Voldemort, long before I’ve fallen in love with you.”

He grabbed her firmly by the forearms. She thought he was going to push her away and reject her, but he simply held her in place, neither pushing nor pulling.

“Aya.” Her name came out in a hoarse and broken whisper. He furrowed his brow in desperation. “… I don’t know how to be a father or husband or lover. I don’t know if I can be all those things.”

“We’ll learn … together,” she encouraged him, looking into his eyes, trying to convey all the love she felt for him. His arms fell to his sides again and he sagged against the wall, his head hung in defeat.

“I don’t know if I am human enough for it, Aya,” he whispered, lacking any sort of energy.

She sank to her knees in front of him. “Of course you are,” she insisted brokenly, tears blurring her vision. “Voldemort, my darling, please, don’t fight me on this.” She cupped his cheeks and pressed her forehead to his, their noses slightly touching. “I know all this is new to you, that it feels overwhelming and hard to control, because I’m experiencing the same storm of emotions as you, but don’t push me away.”

A couple of stray tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Don’t close yourself off to happiness … a family, simply because you fear losing control or because you’ve somehow convinced yourself having emotions is a weakness.” She nuzzled his slits and cheek.

“Voldemort … I want to make you strong, not weak. Let me show you just how much I love you.” She kissed him briefly on the lips, which remained unmoving. “Let me show you how worthy and capable you are of love … Let me make you happy.”

She kissed him again … softly, gently … and again. Still there was no response from him. However, she wasn’t discouraged. She could spend the entire day kissing him like that and not get tired at all.

As she continued to pepper him with feather-light kisses, she felt him place a hand on her waist and squeeze. She stopped, bracing for rejection. Instead, his touch curled into a caress and pulled her forward into his lap. His other hand grabbed her by the nape and pulled her into a rough, desperate kiss full of longing and need.

He pried her lips open with his forked tongue and swirled inside her hot mouth. A sound of pure delight vibrated deep in his throat as he continued to assault her lips and mouth like a starved man who finally tasted food for the first time in weeks. He was kissing her as if she was the air he needed to breathe, as if she was the only food he ate, as if she was the water he drank.

She straddled his hips, pressing and rubbing her clothed pussy against his bulging erection, and wrapped her arms around his neck, responding with the same kind of intensity and urge as him. He ran his hands all over her back and arse, caressing and squeezing with the same kind of urge he was kissing her.

She wished the kiss never stopped, despite how raw her lips felt and how her lungs burnt for air, but eventually he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together, both completely out of breath. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply, and proceeded to chant her name as if in a prayer.

“Aya, Aya, Aya, Aya, Aya, Aya …”

As he was repeating her name incessantly, he kept nuzzling her hair and hugging her to him. She hugged him fiercely, smiling, because to her, every time he said her name, it felt and sounded like he was saying ‘ _I love you_ ’.

Midway his chant, she joined him by calling out his name with the same kind of reverence he was chanting hers.

…

They continued embracing each other long after they recovered their breaths. They let their hands caress one another in lazy motions, enjoying the comfort of the other’s presence and warmth in companionable silence.

Suddenly, he pulled away and unclasped the chain around her neck.

“Voldemort,” she said, unsure, “what are you doing?”

He slid the ring off the chain, before clasping the chain around her neck again. He then took her left hand in his right. Her heartbeat quickened as she realised what he was doing and before he even said anything, she already started crying.

He swallowed. “I never thought I would say this, but … Aya, marry me. I want you to be my wife and the mother of my children.”

She nodded and smiled through her tears.

“Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know …” she hiccoughed as a fresh wave of tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I feel so happy that I’m crying.” She let out a strangled sob.

“Does that mean you will marry me?” he said amused and baffled by her reaction to his proposal.

She looked insulted by this question. “Of course I’ll marry you,” she said vehemently in her slightly raspy voice, wiping away the tears. “Why wouldn’t I want to marry the man of my dreams and the father of my children?”

He smiled and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, before sliding the Gaunt ring on the ring finger of her left hand. Immediately, the slightly big ring resized to fit her finger to perfection.

She engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug, before crashing their lips together in an awkward kiss. “I love you,” she whispered in between the kisses. “I love you so much … Sometimes it feels as if there’s too much love for my body to fit it all in and it gets hard to breathe.” 

“Well, I hope you don’t end up suffocating because of it,” he teased her with a smirk and earned a light swat on the shoulder and a playful glare from the woman who was going to be his future wife and the mother of his children.

He glanced at her flat stomach and felt compelled to touch it. If only for a moment.

He placed one of his pale, skeletal and sharp-nailed hands over it. “I still can’t quite believe there’s a baby forming and growing inside you,” he breathed, as his thumb stroked her belly, shakily and completely mesmerised.

She covered his hand with hers and sent a heart-warming smile his way. “Well I can,” she retorted, sniffing away the last of her tears. “Especially with how much sex we had that night.” She nuzzled his cheek lovingly. “I was so full of your cum, it would have been a surprise if I didn’t end up pregnant.”

A growl reverberated in the depths of his throat and chest as he felt his groin stir at her words.

“Aya,” he called her, aroused.

“What?” she said mischievously. “Are you getting excited?” Encouraged by the half-hard erection pressed against her panties, she rubbed herself against him, eliciting more grunts from him. “I’m excited too, you know,” she whispered in his ear. “Can’t you feel just how wet my panties are?”

He grabbed her hips and pressed them down on his groin and caught her lips in another demanding, bruising kiss that seemed to last an eternity, before they finally separated for air.

“I swear, Aya,” he said in between gasps and their foreheads touching. “One day, you’re going to be the death of me.”

She chuckled, caressing his pale face. “I’d rather be your life force, Voldemort,” she whispered against his mouth, before pressing a soft kiss on his lips. “Your strength.” Another kiss. “Your sword and shield.” She pressed another kiss against his lips.

His hands ascended her back, until he cradled her head. When they pulled away, he gazed into her eyes filled with absolute adoration. It made his breath hitch.

He let his thumbs stroke her cheeks and he observed with rapt attention how her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into his touch and covered his hands with hers. “Have you seen a healer already?” he questioned after clearing his throat.

Her smile fell and she sighed. “No, I haven’t. In case you’ve forgotten, I live with my parents. I couldn’t afford to arouse suspicion.” She recalled something. “Which reminds me,” she said. “My parents.”

“What about them?”

“They might come bursting in here any minute, thirsty for your blood, Sirius especially.” She glanced apprehensively towards the door, as if expecting Sirius and Severus to tear the door down as soon as those words were out of her mouth. “I did leave them a letter telling them I would be with you.”

“Here at the Riddle Manor?” he asked, wide-eyed and alarmed.

“Well, not exactly. I don’t think I told them the name of the manor, just the general location,” elaborated Aya. “But other than the name of the manor, they know everything else,” she sighed, disheartened, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Explain.”

Sighing again, she explained. “Yesterday, I fainted in front of them halfway through dinner and when I woke up, they had these scary-calm expressions on their faces that immediately made me think ‘They know, I don’t know how, but they know I’m pregnant’.”

He let her talk, while stroking her hair in soothing motions.

“So I told them about the baby, as well as all about who, where, when, how.” She sighed. “Long story short, they weren’t happy about it, especially Sirius, and I also ended up telling them about my feelings for you and our correspondence through letters.”

His caresses ceased and she looked up at him. “I showed them the letters,” she confessed, biting her bottom lip, “but they gave their word not to say anything about what was in them,” she added hurriedly.

“May I see the memory?” he asked, rubbing her cheeks.

“I don’t know how to extract memories from my head and put them in a Pensieve,” she said apologetically.

“I don’t need a Pensieve,” he assured her. “I can simply dive into your mind and see it in your head. It’s called Legilimency,” he explained.

She still wore a sceptical expression. “Well … as long as you don’t give me a headache or make me nauseous, I suppose it’s fine,” she agreed. “I already have enough with feeling lightheaded and nauseous at random times during the day, I really don’t need to worsen my pregnancy symptoms.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be gentle,” he assured her with a small smile, never ceasing his caresses. “Just look me in the eyes and think about what you want to show me.”

She gazed into his eyes with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Legilimens,” he whispered.

He was immediately transported to the drawing room at 12 Grimmauld Place, where he observed and listened to the interaction between Aya, Severus and Sirius. He soaked in every word coming out of Aya’s mouth concerning him.

When his study and Aya’s face came back into focus again, he heaved out a heavy sigh and rested his forehead on her shoulder.

“Are you upset that I told them about what happened after I touched the cup and about the letters?” she questioned apprehensively.

“No,” he said gently, “not upset. I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. However, I would feel calmer if they swore Unbreakable Vows.” He raised his head to look into her eyes and cup her face in his hands. “I can’t have Dumbledore or the general public know of my resurrection.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, Voldemort,” she said vehemently, covering his hands with hers. “I won’t let anyone take you away from me and our child. Not my parents, not Dumbledore, not anyone.”

He chuckled, amused. “My protector.” He pulled her forward and captured her lips in a passionate kiss, which she responded in kind.

“Aya,” he whispered against her lips, stroking her cheeks. “… Did you really mean what you said to your fathers about me being the man of your life?”

“Aha,” she murmured as she placed another brief kiss on his lips. “I was also serious about marrying a Demon Lord and having demon babies.”

A deep chuckle came from the depths of his throat. “Let me guess, with my looks I fit that description perfectly, don’t I?”

“I did call you Satan when I first met you, or rather when I first heard you,” contemplated Aya with a grin, “and Gaunt referred to your snake-like features as ‘plenty demonic’.”

“I don’t understand how you can feel attracted to me, when I look like this. Are you sure you don’t prefer how I looked in my youth?”

Before he could close himself off again, she hushed him with a finger to his lips. “Voldemort, you are the most handsome, attractive, delicious, amazing, sexy and desirable man I know, and I’m not referring to how you looked in the past,” she said with conviction.

“I can’t help but feel attracted to and aroused by your red, snake-like eyes.” She stroked his hairless eyebrows, before leaning forward and placing two kisses, one on each eyelid. “Your nose slits.” She rubbed her nose against his flattened one. “Your bald and veiny head.” She caressed his scalp. “And snake scales scattered all over your body.” She kissed a few patches on his face and neck. “But above all,” she whispered, gazing into his eyes, “I am most attracted to your voice, smell, and personality.”

“Aya,” he choked out, the muscle in his cheek twitching again, “I-”

“If I had to have one complaint about your looks, however,” she continued, “it would be that you’re too skinny. You need to put some meat on those bones, Voldemort, before a strong gust of wind snaps you in half like a twig.”

He threw his head back and laughed without restraint and it was the most amazing and heart-warming sound she had ever heard.

“I’m not that delicate and fragile,” he said after recovering, smiling and mirth still shining in his blood red orbs. “Besides,” he cleared his throat, “I haven’t really had that much of an appetite lately,” he concluded averting his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “With my food, you’ll get your appetite back.”

He hugged her by the waist, regaining some of the amusement from before. “Is that so?”

“Of course. Now that I’m your wife, I’ll cook and bake for you and make sure you’re fed. I’ll even spoon-feed you if necessary,” she announced confidently.

“I look forward to eating your handmade meals then,” he said, grinning and kissing her shoulder.

“You already got a taste of my baking skills for your birthday,” she reminded him. “Which reminds me … you never told me how it was or if you even ate it.”

“Oh, I ate it,” he assured her. “I ate everything, together with the tea.”

“You didn’t give it to or share it with Barty?”

He frowned. “Why would I share it with him, when you baked everything for me?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, playing with the seam of his robes. “I assumed that since you had him write letters for you, you might have let him eat some of the goods I baked for you … You know … as a reward.”

“Well, I’m selfish and didn’t share with anyone.”

She fought a smile. “And?” she prompted him, still twiddling his robes. “Did you like it? It wasn’t too sweet?”

He leaned forward, his hands still around her waist, pressing their foreheads together and looking her in the eyes. “It was delicious.”

She beamed, hugged him by the neck and pulled him in for more kisses.

“Aya,” he said in between kisses, “we should probably … go to Gringotts.”

She stopped. “Why Gringotts?” She frowned in confusion.

“To get our papers in order,” explained Voldemort, kissing her shoulder and neck. “Inheritance … Wedding … That kind of thing.”

“Well, I already consider myself married to you,” she said with a wide smile.

He chuckled. “I know you do, but we should make it official.”

“Agreed, but we can’t use apparition, floo or the Knight Bus,” reminded him Aya. “You know, because of the baby.”

“We’re going to use Thestral Carriage Service,” he informed her.

First, she was confused, but then her eyes illuminated. “Oh, you mean something similar to carriages at Hogwarts?”

“Yes, those carriages,” he said, confused by the fact she seemed to know what thestrals were. Did she see them? “Aya,” he began tentatively, “can you see thestrals?”

“You mean those black skeletal winged horses?”

“Those, yes.”

“Of course I see them,” she said as if it was obvious. “Why wouldn’t I see them?”

“Only those who’ve seen death are able to see them,” explained Voldemort.

“Oh,” she said nonchalantly. “Well I’ve seen plenty of fictional deaths on page and on screen.”

“I’m sure you have, because I have too, but I don’t think those qualify you to see thestrals, Aya. They’re not real deaths,” reasoned Voldemort, amused.

She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow in thought. “There is one significant death I’ve seen in person,” she concluded.

He waited for her to elaborate. He figured it couldn’t be her mother, despite him killing the woman in baby Aya’s line of sight. Therefore, she must have seen someone else die. The question was who.

“It was my pet snail,” she said. “I saw it get run over by a car.”

Voldemort stared, speechless. A snail. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh of incredulity. “Aya,” he began, “you mean to tell me you saw a snail get run over by a car and this event was enough to traumatise you into seeing thestrals?”

It sounded even more ridiculous when he said it aloud.

“It wasn’t _just_ a snail,” she said defensively. “It was my first pet. He only lasted four hours in that role,” she added as a side note, “but it was important to me. I even gave it a name. I called it Franken.”

“Franken?” he repeated incredulously.

“Yes, Franken. Short for Frankenstein,” she explained. “Anyway, I found him in the garden one morning in summer while I was reading. He was moving on a flower leaf and I was so fascinated by it I decided to make it my pet.”

“You were fascinated … by a snail?”

“The Dursleys would never allow me to have a pet, so I thought a snail in the garden was the best I could have in terms of pets,” exclaimed Aya. “Anyway, I had to get inside and help my aunt with the lunch and before I could go outside, approximately four hours have passed and the snail was not where I left it anymore, but instead it was already halfway across the street. Then, a car appeared and …” she made a spurting sound with her mouth, “it splattered the snail on the asphalt,” she concluded her narration.

“What a gruesome way to go,” he said, amused and with a slight hint of sarcasm.

“I know,” she said, wide-eyed. “It traumatised me so much I never dared have another pet, until Sirius got me Athena. At least birds are supposed to have long lifespans so I won’t have to deal with Athena dying on me any time soon,” she concluded.

He wanted to shake his head. Unbelievable.

“Only you, Aya,” he sighed. “Only you can make the death of a snail qualify you to see thestrals.”

“So what … would it have been better if it was a bigger animal or even a person?” she asked baffled. “I thought that as long as one knew that a living being had died before their eyes that was enough.”

He thought about it. “I suppose so,” he allowed, “but still … a snail, Aya?”

“Would it have been better if I told you it was an ant, a fly, or even a spider? Because I’ve killed a shit ton of those whenever they were within hitting range, because I can’t stand them and the rest of the insects as well.” She thought for a bit. “Okay, I’m fine with butterflies, but only butterflies.”

“I didn’t know you had quite the body count for insects. Who would have thought, ha?” he teased her with a wicked grin.

“I know,” she played along with a wicked grin of her own, “I’ve been exterminating those little shits since I learnt how to hold and use a fly swatter,” she said proudly.

“Even ladybugs?” he whispered against her lips as he snaked his hands up her thigs, under her skirt and squeezed her ass.

She moaned softly. “Even ladybugs.”

He flickered his tongue out and outlined her lips, before slipping inside, tasting her again. She whimpered in delight, welcoming him.

“Aren’t they supposed to bring happiness and good luck?” he traced her jaw with his lips, until he reached her ear and nibbled softly on it.

“N-Not when they are invading my personal space,” she sighed, her eyes fluttering shut.

He pressed his fingers between her legs and rubbed them against her folds over the damp fabric. She shivered in pleasure. “Voldemort,” she moaned wantonly.

He mumbled against her skin.

“I-If we want to go to Gringotts, we s-should probably do so now, before my fathers really come bursting through the door.”

He stopped and grunted.

“Yeah … to wring my neck,” he murmured darkly, his forehead against her shoulder.

She caressed his head. “I won’t let them do anything to you,” she assured him.

“How reassuring,” he commented dryly, but sighed and lifted his head.

She left the comfort of his lap and stood up, then grabbed him by the hands and pulled him to his feet. He purposefully lodged his feet between her legs, so that when he was standing again, they would be touching.

He slipped his hands around her waist again and held her close to his body, his chin resting on top of her head. She hugged him around the waist as well and rested her cheek on his pectorals.

“When we get back from London,” he said after a while and she looked up, placing her chin on his chest, “we might as well call on a healer to check up on you and the baby. What do you say?”

He looked down at her and saw her smiling.

“I like that idea.”

“Good.”

He was about to call on Barty to arrange transport and send a letter to Narcissa Malfoy to come check on Aya, when he heard her gasp.

“What is it?”

“I just realised I spent three hours and a half travelling here,” she whispered with wide eyes, “now, we’ll travel back to London for another three hours and a half and then, we will travel another three hours and a half just to get back home again. That’s roughly ten hours and a half of just travelling. When will we eat?”

“I’m sure Winky has already prepared lunch,” said Voldemort, amused, “so we can eat it while we wait for the carriage to arrive, and once we finish our business at Gringotts, we could go eat something before returning back here.”

“I’d like that very much,” she said with a goofy grin. “But, damn, that’s still a lot of traveling for one day,” she complained a second later. “Do you even realise how early I had to get up today?”

He supposed it was a rhetorical question, so he didn’t say anything and simply let her rant.

“At five o’clock in the morning,” she exclaimed. “Okay, I did go to sleep around eight o’clock, so I still managed to get roughly nine hours of sleep, but still. Travelling is tiring, and because I didn’t want to wake my parents, I didn’t take any snacks with me, and Barty and I were in a hurry trying to catch the bus to Little Hangleton after we finished talking at the Leaky Cauldron so there was no time for snacks either.”

As soon as the second part of the last sentence was out of her mouth, she realised she said more than she needed. She gulped and looked at Voldemort, who was smiling way too much and way too unrealistically.

“So … you met up with Barty, did you?” he said with the most forced, strained and fake smile one usually saw in Japanese animated series. “You came here … with him?” There was a murderous aura oozing out of his pores.

“We just talked,” she said in an effort to appease him. “… Well, mostly. I was busy viewing a memory of you in your Pensieve.” ‘Oops,’ she thought immediately after those words left her mouth, ‘I wasn’t supposed to say that either. Oh well, what’s done is done.’

Voldemort’s forced smile fell away and panic replaced it. He stepped towards the cupboard, where he kept the Pensieve and the memories, and found the basin gone.

Judging by his agitated breath and silence, she concluded he was furious. She felt obliged to placate his anger and help Barty as well. After all, he did risk his hide to meet with her and show her the lengths Voldemort went to in order to make himself forget her.

“Voldemort, darling, don’t punish him,” she said gently, stroking his shoulder. “He was just trying to help us get together. He wants you to be happy.”

“He took my Pensieve,” he began, seething, hunched over the cupboard, gripping the sides with force, “he talked and met with you, he told and showed you my pathetic self … While I remained none the wiser.”

“You were being stubborn and left him no choice but to be secretive about it.”

He snorted, irritation coming off him in waves. “Which memory did he show you?” he snarled.

“Uh … the one where you got yourself drunk to forget me as well as the things you said to him while you were inebriated.”

He passed his hands over his face. “Of all the memories he could have chosen … Why did it have to be _that_ one, where I don’t even remember all the embarrassing things I no doubt said to him in a moment of weakness?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” she tried to soothe him.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he hissed, narrowing his eyes, and turned to her, “and you are going to show me that blasted memory. I want to see just how foolish and pathetic I sounded.”

“I thought you sounded romantic,” she offered shyly, twiddling his robes.

He let out an exasperated sigh and sent her the same sort of look. “I think it’s safe to say that your opinion is extremely skewed, so forgive me if I don’t find it a reliable and accurate assessment of my drunken behaviour.”

“So what if it’s skewed,” she said with finality. “My opinion should be the only one that matters to you in matters such as this _because_ of my feelings for you.”

She hugged him and nuzzled his chest. “I will show you the memory that Barty showed me as well as the memory of my meeting with Barty and the letter he sent me,” she said quietly. “Just don’t hurt him … please,” she pleaded with her puppy eyes.

It took him a while, but he relaxed under her touch and returned the hug. “Fine,” he agreed, defeated, “I won’t punish him, but he will still have to explain himself.”

She hugged him tighter and he responded in kind.

“Barty!” he called; his arms still around her shoulders.

Shortly after, the door opened. “Yes, my Lord?”

“I want you to arrange a private thestral carriage for the rest of the day, send a letter to Lucius’ wife to come check on Aya in the evening and tell Winky to serve lunch.”

“I’ll take care of everything right away, my Lord.” He was about to leave, when Voldemort stopped him. “Oh and Barty …” The tone with which he said his name made Barty’s blood freeze in his veins.

“S-Something else you needed, my Lord?” He turned to him.

“Return the Pensieve where it belongs and I would like to have a word with you … tomorrow morning. I want you to tell me all about your … matchmaking endeavours.”

All colour drained from Barty’s face and cold sweat broke out on his face. “O-Of course, my Lord,” he stammered. “I-I’ll return it to its place and tell you everything you want to know.”

“Good. You’re free to go.”

With a bow, Barty left.

“You didn’t have to scare him like that,” she reprimanded him gently when they were alone once more. “The poor guy looked like he was going to faint any minute.”

“Let him sweat and fret over what I’ll do to him,” said Voldemort coolly. “That will teach him not to pull something like that ever again.”

She gasped dramatically. “You sadist,” she breathed, acting affronted, while her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“I thought that was obvious, my dear Aya,” he whispered, before stealing a kiss and picking her up. She squealed in delight as she wound her arms around his neck and let herself be carried towards the dining room.

They were almost at the door when she let out a sound of alarm, still kissing him.

“My handy dandy smartphone,” she exclaimed melodramatically, after breaking the kiss, and extended an arm towards the device on the floor alongside the book. “I won’t be able to last another seven hours of travelling without the games I have there or the Internet.”

He rolled his eyes, but put her down, so she could pick up her phone and book. Once she had both secured inside her bag, she returned to him.

“Okay, now you can carry me to lunch,” she announced, embracing his neck, and waited to be lifted again.

While he carried her, she was telling him all about the games she wanted to show him and that he might like, such as Solitaire and its many variations, Mahjong, Shogi (Japanese chess), and Go.

Voldemort kept silent, but listened to her excited ramblings and watched her make excited facial expressions and hand gestures with a serene smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've come to the final chapter (of the first part)! 
> 
> First, I would like to thank all of you who have commented, kudoed and bookmarked this story so far (and of course all those who will still do that in the future :3) I'm glad the story and the characters (especially Aya) have been so well received and I can only hope most of you will stick around for the sequels, where things will only be juicier, smuttier and fluffier, now that Voldemort and Aya got together :) 
> 
> Second, I know you are probably itching for a continuation next week, but I'm afraid I'm barely a chapter in (and I want to be at least five or six chapters into the story before publishing the first chapter). I'm also writing four other stories, my master thesis and taking over some of my colleague's classes since she's going on maternity leave today, so my schedule right now is hectic. Therefore, I will resume this series on Friday, 3 May 2019 and aim for a biweekly update schedule (every other week). The sequel's title is going to be Aya's Darling Voldemort.
> 
> Third, now that we've come to the end of the first part, I would like to ask you what you liked the most in this chapter and what are some of your favourite moments from the entire fanfic? There have been many things that happened, but there must have been a few things that stuck with you :)
> 
> And finally, if you're interested in my future work, I can tell you I have two new fem!Harry/Voldemort stories/series in the works and two male Harry/Voldemort stories in the works, one is a series and the other a standalone story. The debut dates for this stories are as follows:  
> Game Over, Try Again (Ana Potter/Voldemort) - Monday, 29 April 2019  
> Adriana & Voldemort: The Beginning - Wednesday, 1 May 2019  
> Famiglia Porter - Tuesday, 7 May 2019  
> Taking Charge - Thursday, 9 May 2019


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